Young Royals
by Disillusioned2019
Summary: AU: Being the daughter of a mercenary meant Rachel grew up with dangerous men and women coming in and out of her life. When her father is killed by an enemy long thought dead, Rachel has to use everything she's learned over the years to protect the ones she loves, and she will do whatever it takes to keep them safe. Even if it meant following in her father's footsteps.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Your typical 'Rachel isn't what she seems' story that I can't avoid.**

 **There might be a few mistakes in there. Not that perfect**

* * *

Rachel wanted nothing more than to eat lunch in peace. But of course, her peace of mind was disturbed by three lumbering, brain-dead jocks who thought it would be a good idea to pour two large slushies over her head. With a piece of lettuce, a carrot, and a tomato speared on her fork, halfway to her mouth, Rachel closed her eyes on instinct as the liquid dripped down her face, neck, and under her sweater. There was laughter, as usual, and there was scrambling by the other Glee members to get as far away from her as possible.

Using her hands to clear her vision, Rachel counted down from ten and stood up slowly. She walked out of the cafeteria, her steps matching the chorus of teasing and jeering coming from every corner of the room, and she kept counting as she made her way to her locker. She'd made it to fifty by the time she'd calmed down enough to focus on what she needed to grab.

Strong hands swatted hers away, and Rachel relaxed.

"Come on. I know somewhere we can go without drawing too much attention."

She nodded, the coldness of the drinks numbing her lips and cheeks, and she let Sam guide her. They walked in the opposite direction of the main bathroom, and when she saw the main offices come into view, albeit a bit blurry, she sighed.

"Don't be like that. There's only one bathroom you can change without worrying about someone coming in and making things worse."

"I hate coming to her like this. She has enough to deal with, pretending as if it does not bother her, but I cannot possibly be helping by showing up and dripping ice all over the place."

Sam squeezed her shoulder as he knocked on the door, and when they got confirmation to come in, Rachel grudgingly followed him inside. There was a sharp exhale, and Rachel waited for the explosion that never happened.

After a moment of tense silence, there was a soft mutter of, "The bathroom's all yours, Ace."

Rachel glanced up, seeing the resignation on her Godmother's face, and smiled weakly. "Thanks," she said.

"No problem. You can hang out in the back room until it's time for Glee."

Rachel shook her head and took the bag from Sam. "No, I would rather not hide. You both know that is a last-ditch resort for me," she said.

"But-

"But nothing," Rachel cut in smoothly, patting Sam on the arm. "You should go back," she said to him.

"Why?"

"I am sure someone saw you get up. I prefer to avoid the rumors if you do not mind."

"You know that shit doesn't matter to me."

"Yes, well, it matters to your girlfriend." She saw him flinch, and Rachel gave him a gentle push towards the exit. "Go on. I will be fine. I always am," she said.

"Lies."

"Wishful thinking."

"Rach-

"Sam, honestly. This is not the first time it has happened, and it will not be the last. Quinn is exceptionally diligent in making sure I go through at least three outfits a day, many of which have to be thrown out."

"But you throw them out anyway," he pointed out.

"Do you think the kids in this school are smart enough to come up with another reason as to why I wear new sweaters every day other than the fact I get slushies poured down my shirt just for breathing?" she asked wryly.

Sam stuck out his tongue and Rachel made a face at him, removing her sweater without a second thought. Sam's seen her naked at least fourteen different times on fourteen separate occasions and considering they practically grew up in the same house; it was not uncommon for them to change in front of one another. She tossed it in the trash, mourning another five dollars wasted, and saw Sam hovering by the door. Her Godmother got up and unlocked the back room for her, and Rachel smiled at her best friend.

"Seriously, the longer you stay in here, the worse it will be for us both. Just go back to the cafeteria before someone comes looking for you."

"Fine, fine, I'm going, but you better be in Schue's class."

"I would never miss Spanish," she said softly, keeping her head down so she wouldn't see the knowing smirk etched on Sam's face.

"Course not. I'll see you later, Ace."

She nodded, waving him off, and when the door closed behind him, Rachel felt her Godmother come up behind her.

"I will be right outside if you need anything else, alright?"

"Yes, thank you. I will not be that long."

"I still don't understand why you keep up the act around Sam and me."

Rachel grinned and said, "Because if I slip up one time, I will slip up another. It keeps me on my toes, though I am tired of using the long way to get to a point."

"I would imagine so. Now move it. Lunch is almost over, and I don't want you super late to class."

"Yes, ma'am."

Rachel hurried into the spare room behind her Godmother's office and closed the door. She placed her bag on the sink counter and turned on the shower. Humming to herself, Rachel shifted through her gym bag. Knowing there were only two periods left, Rachel pulled out an owl sweater and skirt combination she found at the thrift store.

"Least these are a normal shade of pink," she muttered.

Rachel ran the water for the shower, stripped off the rest of her clothes, and once it got hot, she stepped inside. Putting a shower in the back office was not the original plan, but they figured someone would need it at some point. Unfortunately, they didn't anticipate Rachel needing to use it because the head cheerleader was a self-righteous bitch whose favorite method of torture was a generic Icee. Taking a deep breath, Rachel resumed her counting. She continued to calm her breathing and center herself as she washed the sticky substance off her skin and face.

With the strong possibility that there would be another slushy bath, Rachel took advantage of the shower. She wouldn't be able to do it a second time and figured she'd better make the most of it. If experience taught her anything, Quinn would do another one just after the end of classes, and Rachel would have no choice but to attend Glee in her gym stuff and covered in dried slushy.

Luckily for her, despite everything, she remembered to grab the right set of clothes. Lord knows how the club would've reacted to her showing up in her preferred workout gear. Sam would've had himself a ball, but the others? Not so much.

There was a knock on the door, and Rachel poked her head out to hear her Godmother tell her to wrap it up. Quickly washing the soap out of her hair, Rachel snatched one of the spare towels off the rack and wrapped it around her head. She stepped out of the shower and searched through the bottom of the bag for her underwear. She was halfway dressed when there was another knock, and the door opened.

"Ace?"

She looked at her Godmother, and said, "I know, I know, I will probably be a little behind."

"No, it's not that. Your, um, your father called."

Rachel sighed. "Let me guess: there is a major problem at some location in some city that would require him to be away for an extended period?"

"He says he's going to try and make it back for the party, but that we shouldn't postpone it."

Rachel's grip on the counter tightened, but she kept her composure since she wasn't alone. "Okay," she said.

"Ace-

"I need to finish getting dressed," Rachel said, mentally wincing when her voice cracked.

Her Godmother frowned, but ducked out and closed the door behind her. Without thinking, Rachel punched the mirror, watching her reflection crack and distort. The pain in her hand did nothing to soothe her anger, and after making sure she didn't slice through a nerve, Rachel opened the cabinet door to get the first-aid kit. She picked out the small pieces of glass first and then poured alcohol over her knuckles. Confident that was the best she could do until she got home, Rachel wrapped gauze around it and used a safety pin to hold it together. Then she slid on her clothes and grabbed her bag. She was at least five minutes later for class, and when she walked out of the office, her Godmother had a pass for her on the desk.

"That's the fourth mirror this month."

"Then you should buy stronger glass," Rachel murmured.

Her Godmother snorted. "Or you should learn to control your anger better. The counting and deep breaths aren't helping."

Rachel rolled her eyes and was on her way out of the door when her Godmother called her name.

"What now?" she groaned.

"Towel."

"Oh." Rachel snatched the towel off her head and tossed it to Sue. "Thanks," she said.

"Get out of my office."

Rachel pursed her lips at the tone but knew she deserved it. She looked out, making sure there weren't any Cheerios around, and quickly exited the office. She had a five-minute window to get to her locker and Spanish before Mister Schue marked her absent, and she did not need another tardy on her record.

All Rachel wanted to do was have a drama-free day. She'd gotten too comfortable over the summer, enjoying having her father home and Sam not being distracted by short skirts and disgustingly pretty green eyes. Then again, he was a guy, and Rachel couldn't find too much fault in it. She was distracted by short skirts and beautiful brown eyes herself. Brown eyes that held so many secrets Rachel got dizzy just thinking about it. She snapped out of her daydream and dropped her bag off in her locker before jogging to Spanish. Rachel made it before Schue locked the door, and slid in apologetically. She gave him the pass, and he looked at it oddly.

"You got a pass from Coach Sue?" he asked.

Rachel frowned. "I dripped slushy on her tracksuit, and she spent the last fifteen minutes yelling at me," she lied.

"Oh. Okay, well, sit down and get started."

Rachel nodded and rolled her eyes when she turned her back on him. She sat down next to Brittany, and the blonde pointed to the bandage.

"You broke a mirror again?" she whispered.

"Maybe."

"You really need to go to anger management. This can't be healthy."

Rachel snorted. Brittany was the last person to talk about anger management. She looked at the blonde, saw the amusement dancing in her eyes, and she said, "I'll go when you go."

"I'll have to check my schedule."

"You do that."

Brittany grinned and passed Rachel the assignment for the day. They spent the rest of the class in silence and when they finished Rachel and Brittany huddled together and laughed at memories from the summer. While they were distracted with one another, Rachel barely registered the eyes boring into the side of her face.

But someone else did.

Sam smirked and made a mental note to tell the dynamic duo they're closeness grated the nerves of their resident Latina, and then, he would sit back and watch the fireworks.


	2. Chapter 2

**There could be some mistakes in there.**

 **I am human after** **all**

* * *

Rachel had nothing against the shower at school. It did its job, but only when she was at home could she thoroughly wash away the dirt and grime from the day. There was also the fact she had makeup caked on her neck and arms. It was tiresome going through the process every morning. However, it was necessary, at least for the time being.

"You up for Hawks tonight?"

Rachel clicked her tongue against her teeth and shut off the water. If ever Sam came into her bathroom, she'd been in there for too long, or it was an emergency. Based on his question, Rachel had been in there for too long, and he was bored. She stuck her hand out and grabbed hold of her towel.

"Sooo, is that a yes or no?"

Rachel yanked back the curtain and glared at him. "Was this not something that could wait until after I got out?" she said.

Sam shrugged his shoulders, swinging his legs and hitting his socked feet against her counter, and said, "You've been in here for almost an hour. Sue thought you'd fallen or some crazy shit and sent me up to check on you. I knew you'd probably got lost in your head, and since I wasn't waiting for you to get out, I decided to come in."

"And if I was naked?"

"Dude, we took baths together until we were eleven. I've seen all your birthmarks, scars, and private bits just as you've seen mine."

"You really have to stop reminding me of that."

"Well, you obviously keep forgetting. It's not like I'm actively trying to see you naked."

"Do you make these comments in front of your girlfriend?"

Sam frowned. "Yeah, about that. I think I'm going to break up with her," he said.

"Why? If you do that, your time on the football team is no more," she pointed out.

"So what? Football is just a hobby. You're family, and the way she treats you is unacceptable."

Rachel chose not to respond and opened the door to her bedroom. She heard Sam jump off the counter, and she thought the conversation would die off, but he grabbed her arm and turned her around. When she realized he was waiting on a response, she tapped the tattoo on his wrist and sighed.

"I would never - could never - make you pick between me and football."

He grabbed her hand and kissed it before pulling her into a hug. "I'm not asking you too. I'm telling you I've made my decision. Quinn is," he paused and shook his head, "Quinn was amazing those first few weeks. I don't know what happened. It's like she changed overnight. The way she rants and raves about you, about how you think you're entitled and how spoiled you are, and then there's the thing about you growing up with two dads. It's a lot, Ace, and I can't keep going on like it doesn't affect me. She isn't the girl I thought she was, and as I said, football is a hobby. It's not my life."

"Yeah, but-

"Nothing. I've made my decision. I'm not asking for permission."

Rachel huffed and smacked him on the stomach until he let her go. She glared at him and walked to her closet. Turning on the light, Rachel looked through what was clean and made a mental note to do laundry whenever they got home. Bypassing her school stuff, she thought about the weather and figured a shirt and jacket would be warm enough.

"Are you seriously upset with me?" he said disbelievingly.

"No." Rachel snatched the shirt she wanted off the hanger and sat on her heels while she looked for some jeans. "I am upset that you have become responsible enough to do this without needing my input," she grumbled.

"First off, fuck you, because I know that was an underhanded insult about my decision-making abilities," he said. "Second off, thank you, because I know it was hard for you to step back and let me do this on my own."

"I am nothing if not adaptable."

Rachel found the jeans she wanted and turned off the light. She twisted around and caught the end of Sam's eye-roll.

"Sure you are. I'm going to go get dressed, and I'll meet you downstairs."

"You should wear your hair up," she suggested. "I like you better with the man bun."

"Fine, but you have to wear your natural curls."

Rachel puffed out her cheeks, ready to argue him down, but she released the air and nodded.

"Good. See in you fifteen?"

"Make it twenty."

Sam waved to show he heard and closed the door behind him. She rolled her neck around and picked up the picture frame on her nightstand. It was of her, Sam, and Hawk with Peyton Manning when they were about nine or ten. Sam was so excited and even got the opportunity to throw a couple of catches to some Colts receivers. Rachel knew that's when he fell in love with football and no matter what she may or may not have said, she wasn't going to let him give it up because of something he had no control over.

Putting the frame down, Rachel came up with a way that would satisfy them both, and she knew just who to talk too.

* * *

Puck wiped down the bar while his Dad closed up for the regular patrons. They turned off the lights, put the chairs on the tables, and shut down the sound system before going downstairs.

"Alright, go unlock the door, and I'll get the oil warmed up," his Dad said.

"Hey, you think we'll have any drama tonight? I haven't told the others that Lopez was coming."

"I think Ace will behave, as will King and Ten, but I'd keep an eye out on Lopez. She's a wild card."

Puck snorted and flipped on the system for the basement. Lights flickered once or twice before coming on and cast the room in dim light. The bar under the bar, Puck thought. The one that you had to know about to enter and the one you had to respect unless you wanted to wake up with a couple of teeth missing. His father was strict about fighting and arguing, so much so that most of the time it was the same people invited every night. There were those, like Rachel, Sam, and Brittany that came without an invitation, and then there were those like Santana who had to be explicitly allowed in the bar on whatever night her name was on the list.

"You gotta stop wearing out this card thing, Dad," he said.

"Ace is the one who picked the nicknames after she won that game against her father. At this point, it's more out of habit than anything."

"Yeah, but why King and Ten?"

"Royal Flush, Noah. All Ace needs is her Queen, and she'll have herself a winning hand. Sam is her King, for many reasons, and Brittany has always been her Ten. It made sense."

"Well, we all know who she wants as her Queen. But, if Sam is the King and Brittany is the Ten, then what am I supposed to be?"

"The Joker."

Puck flipped off his Dad and plopped down in one of the booths. He knew he and Rachel had an odd relationship. She came to him when she needed something people their age couldn't usually access, and he went to her when a rumor ran wild about her or her father. It was a mutually beneficial relationship that never strayed too far away from how it started. Sam was his best mate, his brother in everything but blood, but Rachel was something different. She was a complicated individual with a long line of men and women ready to go to War for her should she ask them too. To him, Rachel was more like an ally you didn't want to piss off. Keep her happy and do what she asks, live a long and prosperous life.

"Puckerman!"

He blinked and jerked forward when he realized Santana was standing in front of him. She looked different, probably because she wasn't wearing her uniform, but there was something else about her that reminded him a lot like Rachel. There were secrets in her eyes, and it caused a shiver to go down his spine.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.

"Just trying to figure out why you're here so early," he lied.

"You told me eleven. It's eleven-thirty."

"Oh." Noah shook his head and slid out of the booth. "My bad. I guess I zoned out longer than I meant too. Come on, let's get some liquor and food in you," he said.

"Just a beer for now," she sighed. "I don't know who all is coming."

Noah kept his back to her, meaning she missed his wince, and he said slowly, "Um, about that. I need to warn you about a few things."

"Like what?"

"There are people coming tonight that might surprise you. You need to keep your questions and comments to yourself. If it gets too much, let me know, and I'll get you a ride home, but you cannot offend any of the guests, or you'll never be allowed back. I'd rather you leave early and get your mind right instead of being banned for your ignorance."

He placed a bottle in front of her, and she tapped her fingernails against the bar.

"I learned that lesson already, Noah," she said softly, scaring him with her use of his name.

"What do you mean?"

"This is a bar for the type of people that most would try to avoid. The type of people with the dark pasts, dark secrets, and dangerous habits. It's the place you go too when you want something done off the books."

She sat up straighter and smiled when his father put a plate of fries in front of her. He made a face, wondering how he knew what she wanted to eat, and Santana chuckled.

"I guess your Dad forgot to mention I came in here when I was younger," she said.

"Huh? How did you find this place?"

"Do you remember a guy named Mateo? Used to come in and sit in the last booth on the right. He always ordered a-

"Jack and Coke with an olive," Noah finished.

"Right. Well, Mateo was my brother. One night, he came home when our parents were out of town and had a knife sticking out of his stomach. I knew enough to patch him up, and before he passed out, he told me to come here and ask for your Dad along with a message. I told him what Teo told me, but I slipped up. I asked too many questions and got a black eye for my troubles. Your Dad told me I would get a second chance to return if I wanted too, but I got caught up with school and everything. I forgot it even existed until you asked me to come here tonight."

"You said **_was_**." At Santana's look, he clarified, "You said Mateo _**was** _your brother, as in he isn't anymore?"

"Is that not what you say when someone is no longer amongst the living?"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. My brother was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Before the ambulance could get to him, he died in the arms of some guy he didn't even know. Crazy, right? A stranger was the last person my brother saw before he took his last breath."

Feeling like the conversation was taking an odd turn, Noah leaned on the bar and asked, "How old were you when you came here?"

"Mmm. Fifteen."

"Fifteen? Aren't you a year younger than me?"

Santana pursed her lips and drank some of her beer before she said, "I'm two years older than you. One year I got held back, and the other year I missed too many days to get bumped ahead. I asked Sue to keep my records private."

"But surely that would've gotten around? You went to school with the same people, and they would've known you weren't in the right grade."

"Who do you think is brave enough to call me out on it?"

Noah thought it over and decided she was right. No one at McKinley was stupid enough to spread that rumor around, not after Santana broke the leg of the captain of the soccer team for telling everyone she had herpes. It was a bad year for the soccer team, and Noah had no idea what happened to the guy over the summer. He just vanished.

The light above the door turned red before going back to its normal color, and Noah took a deep breath.

"Remember what I told you," he warned her, just as the door opened.

Santana nodded and looked over her shoulder to see who was coming in. There were four sets of wide eyes, in shock, disbelief, amusement, and fear respectively, and Noah watched it play out with his father.

"Rachel?"

"Santana?"

"I'm Brittany!"

"And you can call me Sam."

Rachel smacked Sam and Brittany on the arm and said to Santana, "What are you doing here?"

"Um." Santana glanced at Noah, and he gave her a short nod. " I'm here because Puck invited me tonight. Something about a pre-birthday celebration I should be a part of?" she said.

"What birthday celebration?" Rachel asked.

Everyone paused, and Santana quickly concluded Rachel was the one they were celebrating and had no idea about it until that moment.

"Um, surprise?" Sam said weakly.

Santana looked at Puck, and he avoided looking in her direction. She had a million questions but knew well enough that she would have to wait until school the next day before she could get her answers. Why would he invite her to Rachel's birthday party? And why does he feel like Rachel would want Santana there in the first place?

More importantly, why the hell does Rachel have a Royal Collective tattoo on her neck?


	3. Chapter 3

**"Never make yourself feel like nothing, to make someone else feel like everything."**

 **Mac Miller**

* * *

After a few moments of tense silence, Rachel stood up, tapped Santana on the shoulder, and motioned her head towards the stairs. "Come with me," she instructed.

"Do I have a choice in the matter?"

"Of course, but you have questions, and I have answers. What better way to know information than by getting it straight from the source?"

"Are you going to be straight with me then?"

Rachel smiled and winked. "Trust me, I am the last person to be straight with you," she said.

Something flashed in Santana's eyes, but Rachel didn't have time to discover what it was before it disappeared. Santana finished off her beer and got up from the bar, brushing past Rachel as she made her way up the stairs. Rachel stared after her, smiling, and Sam poked her in the side.

"You've got it bad," he whispered.

Rachel flipped him off and slid out of her jacket, tossing it over the bar. She snatched a bottle of whiskey from behind the counter and took two glasses from Micah, Noah's father, as she jogged up the stairs. Santana had already pulled down chairs from the nearest table, and Rachel plopped down in the seat opposite her. She put the bottle down but didn't pour anything when she noticed the weird look on Santana's face.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. I just didn't take you for a whiskey drinker."

"What did you take me for then?"

Santana smirked. "Kale smoothies and sparkling water."

"Maybe over the weekend. Whiskey keeps me going during the week." She then poured a healthy amount into each glass and saluted Santana. "I am ready whenever you are," she said.

"My first question is who are you?" Santana asked, taking a sip of her drink. "It might seem like a simple question, but from what I can see, there is no simple answer."

"What do you mean?"

"For one, your clothes. You look like a teenager. Not a beanie baby. Then there's the fact your roots are turning black, which tells me you're not a natural brunette. There are tattoos all over your arms, neck, and I see the beginning of a larger piece peeking out from under your collar. I'm also a hundred percent positive I've never seen you wear more than small diamond studs in your ear, yet here you are, with a nose ring and your shirt's tight enough to show you have a belly ring. And, to top it off, you're not American. With that said, you are not the Rachel I've grown to know over the past few years. You're a complete stranger."

Rachel cocked her head. "What gives you the impression I am not an American?" she asked.

"One day after Glee, while I was walking out, I caught a bit of your conversation with Brittany. You called her your Malen'kaya Luna, which means Little Moon in Russian. I'm not fluent, but I know the language when I hear it. There's also this," she paused and reached forward to trace the image inked on Rachel's left wrist, " _Ioann Voin_ , John the Warrior, who is someone you normally find in Russian Orthodox. He's supposed to be a helper for those in sorrow. Micah has the same tattoo on his right arm with his wife's name underneath, Elizabeth, I think," she said.

"You still have yet to answer my question."

Santana sighed and clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Stop being difficult. You may not be genetically Russian but you've lived there, or you were born there. John the Warrior is not a widely known individual unless you know what you're looking for."

Rachel let herself smile, and she looked down at the tattoo. "Yes, well, he has come in handy these last several years. I am not the only one with it though. Noah and my Godmother have one too. You would never know it based on how we act, but Noah and I have known each other for quite a while now. His mother, Elizabeth, and my Papa, Hiram, worked together a long time ago. They were as close as two people could be platonically, and they kept in contact over the years. When I lived in Brooklyn, Elizabeth came to visit. Noah was sick, and Micah stayed behind to look after him, so it was just her that weekend. We went out to dinner, my Dad, Papa, Elizabeth, my Godmother, and I. I would have remained home, but Sam was out of town with his parents. My Dad did not trust anyone else to watch me, so I went with them. I was barely eleven, but I knew how to behave myself in public.

"After dinner, we were walking back to the house when it things just...fell apart. Papa and Elizabeth were ahead of the group, catching up, and they were so far ahead they looked like strangers. All of a sudden, there was this car screeching and speeding down the street, and my Dad did not hesitate. He took off on a dead sprint, and I had never seen him run that fast in my life. My Godmom picked me up and tucked my head into her neck. She jogged after him, muttering something under her breath, and then we heard the shots. She dropped to the ground and hovered over me, telling me to stay down. And then the sounds stopped, and there was nothing but silence."

Rachel forwent the glass and took a swig straight from the bottle. She rarely told the story, but there was a part of her that felt like Santana had her own trauma buried inside.

"Witnesses told the police Elizabeth and Papa died trying to protect one another. They both went down at the same time. Anyway, the police never caught the people responsible. A week after the funeral, Micah, me, Noah, my Dad, and my Godmom all got _Ioann Voin_ to honor Papa. He was a weird mixture of Jewish and Russian Orthodox, and he rarely followed the traditions of either religion, but there were some things he honored and remained faithful too. We got them out of respect."

Santana nodded, and she seemed to hesitate before saying, "I can tell you would rather change the subject, but I would like to go out on a limb and assume that I know your Godmother personally. And, you said the police might not have caught the people responsible, but I have a feeling someone else did."

Rachel took another sip from the bottle and weighed her options. The girl sitting in front of her was one of her tormentors, and it was also the girl that has haunted her daydreams and been the subject of many nightmares. But it was also the girl Noah invited to a private bar which means he knows something Rachel does not. She studied the Latina, the two of them never breaking eye contact like Santana knew Rachel was searching for a reason not to trust her. So far, she was coming up short. Rachel still debated how much to say, whether to avoid the question or be upfront, but the longer they sat there, the more it seemed as if Santana had her own secrets, her own demons. And Rachel wasn't going to pretend like she didn't want to delve deep into the mind of the girl sitting across from her. Maybe do a little more if she were honest.

So she made her decision. She would extend an olive branch by telling the truth.

"You would be correct in assuming you know my Godmother, but I will not tell you. I will show you instead. Also, you are right. The police never found the people responsible, but three bodies did show up in an abandoned parking lot three weeks later with bullets between their eyes and their hands and feet missing. The person who put them there left nothing behind, and to this day, it is still a mystery as to who killed them and why."

"Did you do it?"

Rachel barked out a laugh. "God, no. I was in Moscow when it happened. I did, however, receive a package in the mail. You see, my Dad has a flair for the dramatics, and figured I would appreciate the early birthday gift."

"Y-your Dad?" Santana sputtered. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"Well, he is the one who sent me pictures of the men before their untimely deaths. Nice, little polaroids I keep in a safety deposit box should the need ever arise for me to pull them out again."

"I'm confused."

"Would it help if I told you my Dad is the Collector?" Rachel asked, catching the other girl mid-sip.

Santana choked on her drink, and she exclaimed, "Seriously?!"

"Stupid name but I can see how it originated. He did have a penchant for collecting various body parts."

"Are you fucking with me right now?"

Rachel laughed. "No, I am not, though I am confused as to how you know the name."

"I read the news, and my Dad might be his on-call surgeon, or he used to be."

"Oh? Is your dad Antonio? Nice guy. My Dad loves him."

"I'll be sure to pass along the message," Santana deadpanned. She then stood up from her seat and began to pace the room. "Okay, so your Dad is the Collector, an infamous serial killer-

"Mercenary," Rachel corrected. "He killed people for money, not pleasure. Well, okay there was a little pleasure involved, but it was mostly for money. The body parts he stole usually revolved around the reason the person died. He sent them to the clients as proof the job was finished."

"Noted." Santana's eyes fell to the tattoo on Rachel's neck. "I knew I wasn't hallucinating. That's a Royal Collective tattoo," she said.

"It is, though I would like to have a chat with whoever came up with that name. I mean, yes, my father had tons of proteges, assistants, and apprentices, but must we name them as the Royal Collective? I will admit it has a ring to it, but it gets annoying a majority of the time hearing that all over the world. My Dad is no King."

"Holy fucking shit."

"Language," Rachel teased. "And calm down, you are making this into a bigger thing than it needs to be."

"Really? I'm standing in front of the daughter of a man who once shot two people in the head with the same bullet! In the middle of the Thanksgiving Day Parade! I mean, it's the same daughter that could very well be following in her father's footsteps! How the hell can I be calm!?"

"Because I am asking you too? And for the record, I might be in the Collective, but I am not apart of it. I do not go off and kill people for a quick buck. I attend school, I mind my business, and I live my life. My Dad only let me in for safety concerns, and eventually, let Sam and Brittany in for the same reasons. You are freaking out over nothing. I am not going to kill you because you throw slushies on me at school."

"Oh my God," Santana whispered. "I'm dead. So very, very dead."

"Did I not just say I am not planning on killing you?" Rachel said, rolling her eyes.

"It's not you I'm worried about, Rachel! I've been tormenting you for the better part of our high school career!" Santana scoffed and ran a hand through her hair. "Your father could kill me with a spoon and make it look like an accident," she snapped.

"No, he would not, as I can take care of myself. Plus, spoons are archaic. He prefers plastic cups now."

"You. Are. Not. Helping!" Santana hissed.

Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sit down," she said sharply.

"But-

"Sit. Your. Ass. Down."

Santana huffed and sat back down, her knee bouncing so hard it rattled the table. Rachel scooted her chair over and placed her hand on her knee to stop it from bouncing.

"Please, take a deep breath and calm down. In all honesty, you have nothing to be concerned about. If I wanted to kill you because you throw frozen sugar over my head a few times a day, I would have done so after the first time. I would have snapped your neck in the locker room and dumped your body in with the dirty laundry. If I wanted to kill you because you call me inappropriate and inaccurate names, I would have cornered you during your midnight run around the track at school, wrapped my hands around your neck, and squeezed until the life left your body. I would have poisoned the coffee you get every morning from the Lima Bean at five-thirty before you go to practice. I would have paid one of the Cheerios a lot of money to look the other way during one of your many stunts during a routine and accidentally let you hit the gym floor."

Rachel removed her hand and sat back in her set. "Do I need to go on?" she said.

Santana swallowed roughly. "No, I get the point."

"Wonderful."

"Why do you know about all of that? Have you been watching me this entire time?"

Rachel pursed her lips. She couldn't tell her that for the better part of two years, she'd been following Santana around because of some sick obsession without it coming off as weird, so she said, "I watch every one that interests me."

"Should I be flattered or concerned?" Santana asked warily.

Rachel started to answer, but she frowned when she heard boots stomping up the stairs and turned just as Sam burst through the door.

"You two need to come with me. Now."

Rachel got up and followed Sam down the stairs, Santana on her heels, and the two walked in on Micah shutting things down.

"Has anyone heard from Sue?" Sam said.

Rachel heard Santana gasp but didn't have time to see her reaction to figuring out who Rachel's Godmother was. She wanted to know what was going on.

"Sam? What is happening?" she tried again.

When he didn't answer the second time, she yanked him closer by the shirt and shouted, "Tell me what the hell is going on!"

He looked over to the side, communicating silently with Brittany, but before Rachel could pull rank, Brittany pulled out her phone and handed it to Rachel.

"This was sent to all the known members in the Collective. We didn't get it because your father never made it official on paper. My Mom forwarded to me."

Rachel took the phone. She hadn't known she was screaming until she felt her throat start to burn. Suddenly Rachel was back on the streets in Brooklyn, watching her Dad hold her Papa close as he begged him to wake up, but it wasn't her Papa that was lying on the ground, it was her Dad, and she was the one holding on to his lifeless body.

The phone fell from her fingers and clattered to the floor. The last thing she saw was Sam reaching out for her.

* * *

Santana bent down and picked up the device. The screen had cracks from the fall, but she could see the image as clear as day. She covered her mouth with her arm and took deep breaths to keep from throwing up.

When she managed to catch her breath, she asked, "Is that who I think it is?"

"Yeah." Brittany took the phone from her and patted her on the arm. "You okay?" she said.

"Is she?" Santana replied, talking about the still unconscious Rachel.

"We won't know until she gets up, but when she wakes, it will go one of two ways. She'll shut down or…" Brittany trailed off, and Santana frowned.

"Or what?" she pressed.

"Or we're going to have more than one dead body to deal with," Brittany said.

Santana, in a way, understood the situation. She was a mess when her brother died, and Quinn very nearly came close to having an unfortunate accident going down the bleacher stairs.

Feeling out of place, Santana called out to Puck and said, "I don't think I belong here right now."

"Actually, Santana," he said, folding his arms, "you are exactly where you need to be."

Santana jumped when Brittany leaned down and whispered in her ear, "He's right. Plus, you and I both know you don't want to be anywhere else, but here, with her."


	4. Chapter 4

**Someone told me to make the chapters longer, but this might be too long. Ah well, the translations are at the bottom. Most of this is filler with a little bit of Pezberry at the end**

 **Mistakes are mine.**

* * *

The entire day was weird. Coach Sue wasn't yelling at anyone, not even the Glee members or Mister. Schue. Santana was quiet, out of uniform, and hanging around an equally silent Brittany. It all came to a head in Glee, when Artie called out the odd tension in the school. There was something, someone, missing, and no one could identify what it as. The atmosphere in the choir room was almost suppressive, suffocating, but they pressed on despite everything going wrong. Mercedes hit a flat note during a song she'd sung a thousand times. Kurt forgot the lyrics to his duet with Blaine, Mike stumbled through the choreography, and even Brad suffered from the unknown phenomenon. He banged and played his way through a choppy version of Beyoncé's Halo, and Mister Schue finally threw in the white flag. He ended the meeting early, claiming there was no need to continue, and while many chalked it up to bad luck, there were a few in attendance that knew the cause:

Rachel.

The brunette's absence was going on two weeks. Rachel wasn't there to kick everyone into shape, to motivate the group into doing the best version of the performance with no mistakes and no missteps, and there wasn't someone yelling at Finn each time he zoned out during the meeting. If anyone paid attention, they would notice it wasn't just the absence of Rachel making the Glee club fall apart, and it was the silence of Santana, the tense set shoulders and stiff posture of Puck, and the lack of contagious cheer from Brittany. The trio sat in their seats, did what they were told, and practically blended into the background. Then there was no Sam, which meant Quinn was in one of her worst moods ever, and after making Artie, Kurt and Tina cry during one Friday night meeting, Mister Schue kicked her out of the club until she got her attitude under control.

She hadn't been back since.

Sam came to school one day without Rachel but left shortly before lunch. Even while he was there, the blonde sulked around the halls, avoided Quinn, and there were bags under his eyes. His skin was pale, and his ordinarily smooth locks were slicked back and greasy. His clothes were wrinkled or faded, not pristine and color-coordinated as usual, and Brittany commented he looked like he'd spent the last few days sleeping on the floor. Coach Sylvester didn't outwardly support the claim but did mention that Rachel was having nightmares and the only person that could help her sleep through the night was Sam.

Nights at the bar were quiet, mostly filled with speculation on what was next, and Micah kept himself busy by always having a full house. There were those who'd heard rumors and then there were those blissfully unaware of what was occurring in the depths of the criminal underworld. The Collector, as stupid of a name as it might have been, was dead; this was a man who could do any job you asked of him with precision and perfection, and he was gone.

 _"I heard he had a kid. Think she'll be next?"_

 _"Dude was married to a man. I don't care how good he was. World's in a better place with that kinda filth gone. Ya know?"_

 _"Got caught off guard, someone told me. Tryna_ do _a job for an old friend and got whacked."_

 _"Shame you can't trust your own mates to have your back. Damn shame."_

Round and round the rumors went. Conversations never ceased until the day of the funeral. Even the naysayers kept their mouths shut in respect. Gossip spread that it was being held at the Greenlawn Cemetery in Akron. Or maybe it was the Caballero Rivero in Miami? Was it the Saint Louis Cemetery in New Orleans or Crown Hill in Seattle? It could have easily been the Woodlawn Cemetery in Brooklyn.

No matter which location, thousands showed up to pay their respects, but there was nobody, no crowd, and no service.

The truth was only a handful knew the right location, knew that Leroy explicitly requested to have a plot next to his husband should that fateful day arrive, and they were the only ones who showed up to the small funeral held in the backyard of Kosmetika. Dressed in black, ten figures hovered around the patio exchanging small whispers while one lone individual stood in front of the tombstone closest to the trees.

 **Here Lies:**

 **Leroy Alexander Berry**

 **Beloved Husband, Father, and Brother**

 **(7/14/70 – 8/15/18)**

Wavering back and forth, letting the wind blow through her body, Rachel clutched the white rose in her hand. The thorns dug into her palm, but she relished the pain, needed it. For two weeks, her heart kept her alive, but she felt nothing.

She was numb.

Afraid.

Orphaned.

Angry.

Hurt.

Angry.

Angry.

Ang-

She stopped and shook her head, realizing some of her blood dripped onto the once pristine flower, and with a snort, dropped the flower on top of the stone. The irony wasn't lost on her, seeing the red splattered against the white, ruining what was once a symbol for purity and innocence as it lay on the graves of two men who embodied everything the rose didn't.

Her Papa would appreciate the sentiment.

She bowed her head, whispering a prayer for one father and asking the Universe to protect the other, and turned on her heel. Her bare feet crunched against the grass as blood dripped down her middle and right index finger. Rachel stepped on the patio and sighed.

"Come on," she said. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

"I was only told to read this in front of family."

Rachel paused and yanked on the tie of the lawyer. She dragged him down to her level and said coldly, "Do you think I would have strangers at the will reading of my fathers?"

"It's just- Mister and Misses Lo-Lopez are n-not on the li-list of-

"I. Do. Not. Care." Rachel took her hand and placed it against the lawyer's cheek. She dragged it down to his neck, leaving red smears in her wake, and lightly placed her thumb over his Adam's apple. "Do your job. Read the wills, and when you are finished, and the paperwork is signed, your services are no longer needed for this family. Clear?"

"Y-yes," he stammered.

Rachel released her grip and gestured to the house. "You all can find your seats and get comfortable, and I need to speak to Noah and the others for a bit," she said.

The lawyer stood up straight and hurried into the house, the Evans following after him with Sue and Micah behind them. Antonio hesitated, but Rachel nodded, and he went inside also. Sam, Brittany, Puck, and Santana remained outside.

"After this is over, Sam, you are going upstairs, and you are taking a fucking nap because you look like shit. Noah, Brittany, and Santana," Rachel paused and licked her wind-chilled lips, "I know there is a party tonight at Finn's place. I want you guys to go, and I want you to have fun. These are non-negotiable instructions. I just...need to be alone tonight. I need one fucking moment to myself. I have been surrounded and hounded by doctors, lawyers, Sue, Sam, and for once, tonight, let me be alone," she said, her voice cracking at the end.

The teens looked like they wanted to argue, especially Brittany and Sam, but they all said, "Okay."

Rachel smiled gratefully but as soon as it'd appeared it vanished. "Great. The lawyer looks like he is about to piss his pants so we should head in," she said.

When they were inside, Rachel stopped to close and lock the door, and she felt someone grab her on the arm. She turned to the side and frowned at the look on Santana's face.

"What is it?" she asked.

Santana chewed on her bottom lip, glancing out towards the tombstones, and exhaled softly. "You think the silence and the isolation will help but it won't. You're going to crack, Rach, and when you do," Santana used her free hand to cup Rachel's cheek and kissed her forehead, "you know how to find me."

* * *

"I sense this is an informal reading so I will skip the formalities," the lawyer said, switching into business mode once everyone settled. "According to the wishes of one Nikolai Hiram Krayevsky, the estate shall be split in three ways: the main house in Lima and the home in Moscow shall go to one Eva Krayevsky. Next, fifty percent of the Krayevsky fortune, totaling to be eighty-four million dollars, shall go to Micah Noel Puckerman. Should Micah be unable to accept, then the money shall be handed down to Noah Michael Puckerman. The remaining fifty percent shall be split between Eva and my husband. Should either one be unable to accept, then the funds shall be transferred to the remaining inheritor."

The lawyer pulled out the paperwork and placed it on the table. He put a pen on top and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Eva Krayevsky, do you formally accept the reading of this will?"

"I do," Rachel said, frowning at the use of her birth name.

He nodded and gestured for her to sign the papers. She did so and passed them over for him to approve.

"Wonderful. Now, Micah Puckerman, since you are available and able to accept, do you formally-

"Yes," Micah interrupted, his voice distant. "I do."

The lawyer did the same thing to Micah that he did for Rachel, and once that was taken care of, the lawyer pulled out the next stack of papers.

"Moving on," he said, "According to the wishes left behind by one Leroy Alexander Berry, the properties located in New Orleans, Los Angeles, Miami, and Seattle shall be signed over to Eva Krayevsky, and the remaining properties in Toronto, Palermo, Cape Town, and Vancouver shall be signed over to Sue Sylvester. Next, the items in Safety Deposit boxes 231, 234, and 235 shall go to Micah Noel Puckerman, the items in 002 and 003 shall go to Eva, and the items in 345, 347, and 644 shall go to-" the lawyer paused and flushed red. "These items shall go to Antonio Lopez."

"Thought he wasn't in the will," Sam teased, trying to lighten the mood.

The lawyer ignored Sam and continued, "Next, we have the matters of the storage lockers located in Columbus, Ohio; Detroit, Michigan; Long Island, New York; Los Angeles and Oakland, California, and Dallas, Texas. These lockers belong solely to Eva, and should she be unable to accept, the lockers shall be emptied and cleared by the end of the day. Finally, we have the remnants of Mr. Berry's finances."

"Wait, what finances?" Rachel interrupted. "I know what's in one of the safety deposit boxes, but Papa was the one with the inheritance."

"This is a new will," the lawyer said.

"Wait, how new?" Sue asked.

"Approximately two weeks, four days, and six hours ago new."

Rachel jumped up. "Are you telling me my Dad changed his will three days before he died?" she exclaimed.

"Yes?" The lawyer frowned and adjusted his glasses. "I apologize, I thought you were aware of the change. Your father came to see me before he left and gave me this packet, hence why I was under the original impression Mister Lopez wasn't on the list. This is my first time reading the will, so anything on here is new to me and each of you."

"I think maybe we should hear the rest of it," Sue suggested, tugging Rachel back down on the couch. "You know your Dad wouldn't do this without good reason."

Rachel grumbled but told the lawyer to continue. He nodded and skimmed over the document before finding where he left off.

"Right, well, according to this," he stopped, and his eyes widened, "your Dad has roughly three hundred million dollars stashed in various banks all over the world."

"S-say w-what now?" Rachel stammered.

"Did you just say three hundred million?" Sam asked.

"Yes, that is correct." He looked back down at the paperwork, made a noise, flipped over the documents, and said, "Ah. There's a letter here. Would you like for me to read it?"

"Yes, please."

 _I know this is a shock, as your father and I never told you about the money, but it was for emergency only. If you are reading this, then the emergency has occurred. This was a backup plan should I never get the opportunity to tell you in person. Losing your Papa was hard on us both, but there were other factors at play. I have left you all that information in one of your boxes at the bank in New York. You must understand that in your Papa's and I's line of work there are friends, and then there are enemies, but in our case, they're often one in the same. We agreed it would be best if I kept a low profile. Hiram already went through the lengths to hide his identity, as well as yours, and he helped me do the same. We spread the money across the world in different names and different identities so none of the accounts could get traced back to me._ _There is a man in town, named Arthur Abrams, who can help you transfer the money to one single account without alerting the attention of the authorities._

 _My dearest Eva, I am so sorry it has come to this. Papa and I never wanted this outcome, but we planned for it. We hoped it would never be necessary, but unfortunately, it is. I'm heartbroken to say that if you're reading this, then there is a strong possibility I have missed another birthday. No amount of apologies could heal the pain I've caused you, but I will hope that one day you forgive me. I did leave something behind, something just for you._ _Outside of the money, ask Arthur for your gift. He will give it to you, and we hope you love it just as much as we did when we picked it out for you._

 _Happy Belated, my beautiful girl. I love you, Eva, and I know if your Papa were still here he would tell you the same. You must keep going. Remember you have a choice, you've always had one._

 _With all the love in my heart,_

 _Dad._

 _P.S. I leave to you half of the money. The rest, split five ways, goes to Brittany Susan Pierce, Samuel Henderson Evans, Noah Michael Puckerman, and Santana Marie Lopez. Keep them around you, Eva. Real friends are hard to find, so treasure them. And, should this be read in front of others, I wish to tell you that it took your Papa three weeks to work up the nerve to ask. Don't be like your Papa, Eva._

 _Ask._

* * *

Santana drained the last of her drink. There were so many questions. Why did Rachel's father leave her money? Why did he change his will to make that happen? Why the hell was it bothering her that Rachel's real name wasn't Rachel? Honestly, that was the second biggest shock. It was cute but unexpected and a little weird considering no one called Rachel that. Well, her fathers did, but that was different. Second, Rachel was exceptionally richer than she was before, and that was going to cause problems if someone leaked it around town. Specifically, one Artie Abrams. The idiot couldn't keep his mouth shut about anything his father did, and Santana hoped it wouldn't be the same for Rachel – Eva – Rachel.

Fuck. That was going to be a challenge to remember.

Rachel planned on dropping by the Abrams after school, when Artie had math club, and she was going with Micah. Sam and Puck were going to be back at football practice, albeit in a suspended role as Coach wasn't too thrilled her star players went MIA for two weeks, and there was Cheerio practice that afternoon also. The biggest thing about tomorrow was that by eight p.m., Santana was going to have twenty million dollars added to her name, which was why she was drinking so very much of Finn's good liquor.

"Fuck," she muttered. "I need another drink."

She gingerly climbed to her feet, the heels she had on too high and too skinny to be safe, and stumbled her way back into the kitchen. Avoiding grabby football players, Santana went into Finn's liquor collection and stole a half-empty bottle of tequila. She popped the top and gulped down most of it before heading back outside. No matter how much she drank, nothing drove out the confusion, shock, and disbelief running rampant in her mind.

She burped, and all of a sudden, Santana found herself tipping over when familiar arms snaked around her waist.

"Oh, San," Brittany said sadly. "How much have you had to drink?"

She blinked up at Brittany and grinned goofily. "Enough to see," she hiccupped, "the butterflies around you," she said.

"Okay, we need to get you in a bed."

Santana made a face and pulled away from Brittany. "No!" she protested.

"Not a chance."

"I-I don' wanna," she whined.

"I don't care. We're leaving, end of the discussion," Brittany said sharply.

"But-

"I think you should listen to Brittany."

Santana hiccupped again and had to hold on to whatever body was closest as she turned herself around.

"Rae!" she shouted.

Rachel removed her hood and came up the back stairs. "I thought I was supposed to be the shit-faced one tonight," she said.

"Why din you tell me you had a twin?"

"A what?" Rachel said.

"A twin. Meaning she sees two of you," Brittany said.

Rachel hummed and motioned to the broken tequila bottle. "Did she have that when you followed her out here?" she asked.

"Maybe. I saw her in the kitchen, then there was a crash, and came out here to her two seconds away from hitting her head on the railing." Brittany handed Santana over to Rachel and bent down to remove Santana's shoes. Once they were off, Brittany gave Rachel the heels. "Look, I'm going to get Puck, and then I'll pull my car around," she said.

Rachel grunted at the extra weight but adjusted so that Santana wasn't slouched over. She was glad Brittany took off those heels because it would be next to impossible to keep Santana upright. When Brittany bounced off, Rachel tucked Santana's hair behind her ear.

"I have a secret," Santana whispered.

"Okay? And what is the secret?"

Santana clumsily leaned forward, nearly knocking her head against Rachel's, but thankfully they escaped without injury. "I stayed because of you," she whispered in Rachel's ear.

"What do you mean?"

Santana closed her eyes. "You're the reason I'm here," she said in a voice so low Rachel had to strain to hear her.

"I don't-

"Hey, is everything…" Noah trailed off and grimaced. "Uh, am I interrupting something?" he asked.

Santana wanted to say yes, as did Rachel, but neither one said anything.

"Um, guys?" he asked.

"Can you carry her?" Rachel said a little sharper than she intended but she knew he wouldn't take it to heart.

"Yeah, sure."

"Let's go around the back," Rachel suggested. "I would rather not walk her through the party like this."

"Understood."

Noah cradled Santana bridal style and made his way down the back steps. Rachel walked beside him, and they carefully stepped through the bushes and the grass to get to the front where Brittany waited with the car. Noah put Santana in the back with Rachel and hopped in the passenger's seat.

"What about your car?" Brittany asked.

"I walked," Noah said.

"Go to my place," Rachel instructed. "It is the best option since the adults are all at Micah's bar."

"Okay," Brittany said, pulling away from the sidewalk.

No sooner than they got to the end of the street, Rachel looked down and saw Santana fast asleep. The ride to her house took about twenty minutes, the estate at the edge of town hidden among the trees, and Noah carried Santana up the stairs to Rachel's room and carefully laid her on the bed.

"You mind if I spend the night?" Noah asked.

"Not at all. You know where the guest rooms are."

Noah said his thanks and walked out, heading towards the far end of the hall where the guest rooms were.

"What about you? You staying the night?" Rachel asked Brittany.

The blonde shrugged. "Why not? It's not like I don't have clothes here or anything," she said.

"You are more than welcome. You can take whatever room you want, but I think the room opposite Sam's is your best bet."

"Cool." Brittany glanced at Santana, and added, "Sai che è sveglia, vero?"

Rachel snorted and said, "Sì, ma dubito che questo sia qualcosa di nuovo per lei."

"Cosa intendi?"

"Ho sentito che era un'esperta nel fingere."

Brittany smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief, but Rachel couldn't pinpoint why. "I'll see you in the morning," she said.

"G'night, Britt."

Rachel slipped out of her hoodie and tossed it over the back of her chair. She debated whether to sleep on the floor but decided against it. That was her damn bed. Plus, if Santana had a problem, then she could take her half-drunk ass to Brittany's room and sleep there. Rachel stretched out and climbed in beside Santana, making sure there was enough room between the two of them and was reaching over to flick off the light when Santana punched her in the shoulder.

"Ow! What the fuck was that for!" she shouted, rolling back over.

Santana, even in her state, narrowed her eyes and said, "Italian is my third language, you dick."

Rachel laughed, the first real laugh in almost two weeks, and that's when she realized why Brittany was smiling that way.

"For the record, those rumors come from the girls at school because they think I'm sleeping around with their boyfriends."

"So the rumor about you sleeping with Finn-

"A damn lie. I wouldn't touch that lumpy pile of flesh even if I were desperate."

"And the one about you and-

"Look," Santana hissed. "I've slept with one person my entire life, and that was Sheila Mitchell my freshman year. She was a senior, we were at a party, and that was that. Those football players hated the fact I always turned them down, so they started claiming I fucked them to save their manhood. Their Cheerios girlfriends got mad and started their own rumors. But I'm not the slut the jocks and Cheerios make me out to be."

Rachel's initial response was to make a joke, but there was something about the way Santana sounded that caused her to hesitate. There was a flicker in her eyes, quick, but Rachel caught it. Santana was afraid of what Rachel thought of her. Apparently, her silence lasted too long, and when Santana started to cry, Rachel felt like an ass. She scooted closer and wrapped her arm around her waist.

"Hey, I was kidding earlier. I think Brittany set me up. But please, know that I do not think of you like that."

"You don't?"

"Of course not," Rachel scoffed.

"Then what do you think of me?" she whispered.

Rachel's heart dropped into her stomach, but she covered her panic by clearing her throat. "Ask me that in the morning," she said.

Santana nodded and closed her eyes. She curled into Rachel, and that time around, she was asleep within minutes. Rachel wanted to turn out the light, but she was afraid to move, so she laid there, and she drew circles on Santana's waist.

"Buonanotte, mia Regina," she whispered.

* * *

 ** _"Sai che è sveglia?" - "Do you know she's awake?"_**

 ** _"Sì, ma dubito che questo sia qualcosa di nuovo per lei." -"Yes, but I doubt this is something new to her."_**

 ** _"Cosa intendi?" - "What do you mean?"_**

 _ **"Ho sentito che era un esperta nel fingere."** **\- "I heard that she was an expert in pretending."**_

 _ **"Buonanotte, mia Regina." - "Goodnight, my Queen"**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Koroleva is a word for 'Queen' and if ever I write 'Regina,' that means 'Queen' as well. Both of these terms are strictly for Santana and Santana only.**

 **Also, there's a part where there is note-passing. It should be pretty obvious who is who, but in case it isn't,** _this_ **is Sam, and _this_ is Rachel.**

* * *

Santana sat in the back of English, nodding off as the teacher went over their project for fall break, and was glad she had Puck sitting in front of her. Brittany rubbed her back with one hand and took notes with the other. While she waited for the bell to ring, Santana thought about her morning.

Waking up tangled in Rachel's arms wasn't as displeasing as she was expecting. In all honesty, it was the best sleep she'd gotten in a long time. She felt safe, and instead of running, she cuddled closer and went back to sleep. Thankfully Brittany covered for her at practice, which gave her time to catch a couple more hours of sleep, and no one commented on the fact she showed up to school wearing Rachel's clothes.

Least not to her face, and probably because a majority of the people at the school didn't know Rachel owned hardcore, grunge-type clothing.

Santana did catch Puck and Sam exchanging strange looks when they thought she wasn't paying attention, but she didn't care enough to call them out on it. She wasn't going to admit to anything other than the fact Rachel made her feel things she hadn't felt in a long time. They weren't dating, but if she could sneak in a couple of sleepovers and steal a few hoodies, then she had no complaints.

And then her morning went from calm to weird in a matter of minutes.

She'd gotten out of bed before Rachel and took full advantage of her bathroom. Then she stumbled downstairs. Sam and Puck were already down there, munching on apple slices and toast, and she thanked Puck when he handed her some of his fruit. It took about forty-five minutes before Rachel shuffled her way into the kitchen, fully-dressed, but to Santana, it looked like she was moving off muscle memory. Sam was the first to jump up. He hurried around the kitchen, pouring fresh coffee into a mug that looked suspiciously like the Tardis from Dr. Who, and put two teaspoons of sugar into the liquid. Sam then pulled out the bread and grabbed the peanut butter and honey from the cabinet. Santana chewed slowly, glancing to the side at Puck, and he chuckled at the look on her face.

"Is it always like this?" she whispered.

"Yeah. Rachel is shit in the morning, and the best way to wake her up is to dump large amounts of caffeine down her throat. Which I'm sure you can relate too."

Santana nodded sagely. "Yes, I completely understand," she said.

"Anyway, Sam usually does it, but Brittany might jump in or I will. It just depends on who sees her first." He grinned and added in a cheery voice, "Also, I hope you were paying attention because you're going to be doing it too one day."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she said, much louder than she intended.

She saw Rachel grimace, and she huffed, "Why are you so loud, Koroleva?"

That word sounded familiar, but Santana couldn't place it.

"What the fuck is a kor-koro-that word you just said?" Puck asked.

Rachel looked a lot more awake at the question, and she stammered for a response before stuffing another piece of toast into her mouth. Santana cataloged the reaction for later review and looked out of the window. She squinted, realizing she left her contacts and her glasses at home and pointed to the car pulling up in the driveway.

"Am I imagining things or is that a Tesla coming up the driveway?" she asked.

"My Dad," Sam said. "He's probably coming back after dropping off Sue."

"She lives at those apartments near the post office, right?"

"What? No. That's just where she tells people. She lives here."

"Here? Where?"

"In the East Wing," Rachel sighed, her head lying on the counter.

Santana put down her fruit and walked over to where Rachel sat. She tapped her on the shoulder, waiting for those tired brown eyes to look at her, and she said, "You have an East Wing?"

"Yes."

"That implies there's a West Wing."

"Um, yes?"

"Just how big is this house?"

Rachel sunk down in her seat and pursed her lips. "We have a wing for each Cardinal direction. You slept in the South Wing last night, and Sam used to live in the North Wing with his parents. Sue lives in the East Wing, and the West Wing are the-

"Torture chambers," Sam finished.

"Pardon?" Santana said.

"He's kidding," Rachel grumbled. "The West Wing is just where were hold meetings."

Not completely believing her, Santana narrowed her eyes. "You never answered my question. How big is this house?" she asked.

"It depends on your idea of big."

"Then why have I never seen it? Or heard someone at school mention it, for that matter?"

Rachel hesitated and scratched at the back of her neck. "Because, technically, it doesn't exist. We go through a lot of paperwork and money to make sure this place stays off the radar. It's far enough behind the trees that no one can see it, and if anyone travels too close along the perimeter, they get the shock of their life."

"Literally," Sam said, jumping in. "My Dad buried a bunch of electrical booby traps. You step on one of those, and you can kiss your central nervous system goodbye."

"Your Dad is an electrician?" Santana asked.

"Not the kind you want fixing your light bulbs," he said warily.

Getting the hint, Santana turned back to Rachel and poked her again to get her attention.

"Dios Mio," Rachel wailed. "¿Por qué me estás torturando?" _(Why are you torturing me?)_

Ignoring how hot it was to hear Rachel speak Spanish, Santana coughed and said, "I'll leave you alone once you answer this last question."

"Which is?"

"What all is here? Or am I going to have to find out on my own?"

Rachel picked up her coffee mug and grabbed Santana by the arm. "For fuck's sakes, come on," she huffed.

What happened next was a long forty-five minutes of room-by-room explanation. The estate had twenty bedrooms, sixteen full bathrooms and three half-baths, two libraries, three home offices, four tv rooms, and two formal dining rooms. There was a full gym in the East Wing, a theater in the South Wing, an indoor pool in the North Wing, and in the basement, there was a damn sparring pit. Outside, there was another pool, a waterfall, a skate ramp, a basketball court, and a makeshift football field. There was a fifteen-car garage with eight cars and ten bikes. There was a guard house, a guest house that doubled as a bunker should things get out of hand, and Santana didn't even want to think about the artillery closet in the West Wing.

It was a lot to take in all at one time.

The hand rubbing her back began to poke her in the side, and she turned to the side, squinting at Brittany.

"I just realized you're not wearing your glasses."

"Is that why you woke me up?"

"No, the bell's about to ring," she said. "And I think you were starting to snore."

"I was not," she grumbled.

"You were either snoring or dreaming about Rachel, which one do you want me to believe?"

Santana sat up in her seat. "I tend to snore when I get fatigued," she lied.

"Ah, of course."

Puck turned around and handed Santana his phone. "From Rach. She would've texted you, but she knew we were all in the same class," she said.

Santana lifted an eyebrow and grabbed the phone. Brittany leaned over her shoulder, and they read the message together:

Sam and I are getting pizza for lunch. Do you want to eat w/us in the auditorium?

"Think Quinn will come looking for us?" Santana asked.

"Do you care?"

"Not really."

She typed out a response, telling Rachel yes, and gave the phone back to Puck. Brittany waited until Puck turned back around before she leaned over.

"What else did you steal from Rachel's closet this morning?" she whispered.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh? So those aren't her boxers you're wearing?"

"Nope."

"You sure? Because last I checked, you were a Ravenclaw, not a Slytherin."

"I liked the way they look, so, I bought them" Santana sniffed, folding her arms.

"Naturally. Are you sure you're not wearing them to get a reaction out of Rachel?"

"Again, I don't know what you're talking about."

"What if I took a picture of you while you were lying down, Rachel's shirt rising just enough to show off the waistband of her – your – boxers, and sent it to her?"

Santana twitched a little, knowing Brittany was toying with her and kept her eyes on the teacher when Brittany waved her phone in of her face.

"Come on, San," she cooed. "Don't you want to see what she said?"

"Britt-

"She looks good in my clothes," Brittany interrupted, reading off the phone. "I hope she wears them more often."

Santana frowned and snatched the phone from Brittany, only to read a recipe for apple pie. The blonde snorted just as the bell rang. She took her phone back and patted Santana on the shoulder.

"You can fool Sam and Puck, hell, you can probably fool Rachel, but I've watched you pine over her long before you knew who she was." Brittany gathered up her books and kissed Santana on the cheek, adding, "You've got it bad, San."

Santana pouted and stood up, following Brittany out of the classroom with Puck behind them. Since their History class was right next to their English class, they took their time at Puck's locker. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, Finn and Rachel were standing on the other side.

"So, I was hoping maybe you'd given more thought to what I asked you the other day?" Finn asked.

Santana cocked an eyebrow, making no effort to pretend like she wasn't listening.

"Is that why you called me over here? To ask me out on another date?" Rachel said.

"Well, yeah. Why not?"

"I told you I have no interest in dating you."

"Seriously, Rach? Be real right now. I'm the only available guy at school willing to put up with you. Plus, it's not like you have a long list of other guys waiting for you to spare them a moment of your time."

Santana saw Rachel's jaw clench and decided to mess with her a little.

"Puck, can you scoot over just a second?" Santana whispered.

He did as asked, and when she was sufficiently hidden to everyone but Rachel, Santana passed her books to Brittany.

"What are you doing?"

"Testing a theory."

Santana took off the leather jacket she'd borrowed and passed it to Brittany as well. Lifting her arms above her head, Santana arched her back, feigning a stretch. Finn was too busy listing the ways Rachel would benefit from dating him that he hadn't noticed she was no longer listening. Rachel's eyes lowered, and even in the shitty light of the school, Santana could see those beautiful browns darkening to almost black. Slowly lowering her arms, Santana ran her hands over her stomach. Her fake stretch turned into a real one, and her muscles did feel less tight afterward so not a complete waste of time. She heard Brittany call her name, but before she could answer, fingers hooked into the waistband of her jeans and tugged her forward.

"Do not underestimate what I can get away with in the halls. Tease me like that again, and I will take you in the middle of the hallway with everyone watching."

Santana took a deep breath and held it. Rachel smelled like Jack Daniels mixed with the smoldering embers of a bonfire. It was weird, not the best combination of scents, but it still made her chest tighten, and her knees buckle. Rachel's lips brushed against her ear, and Santana's head hit the back of the locker as she stumbled back. Hands gripped her waist to steady her.

"Do you really want to play this game with me? Yes, you look fucking amazing in my clothes. Yes, I enjoy watching the way my jeans hug your hips and the way my shirt's just a little too small at the top, showing off the curve of your breasts. Yes, I get weak seeing a sliver of your skin, showing off the tip of a tattoo I am sure you did not mean to reveal. But," she paused and kissed the spot just under her ear, "I play to win, and I have no problem stripping away your defenses until you melt in my arms. In fact, I look forward to it."

Releasing her grip, Rachel stepped back and disappeared with Sam.

When the hell did Sam get there? And where did Finn go?

Santana let out the breath she'd been holding once Rachel was far enough away, and she ran a shaky hand through her hair.

"How'd that theory work out for you?" Brittany asked.

"It- uh," Santana cleared her throat. "It failed miserably, but I can't say the results weren't pleasing," she said.

"She looked like she was about to eat you alive," Puck said.

Santana stared at Puck after she grabbed her books back from Brittany. "If she had her way, I'm sure she would have," she responded.

"And would you have let her?"

Santana never answered the question, but it echoed in her mind as they made their way to their History class. She had no regrets about her little show in the hall.

Her only regret was that she didn't bring an extra set of underwear.

* * *

Rachel poured the red liquid into the orange liquid and thanked whoever was listening that it didn't blow up in her face. Neither she or Sam had been paying much attention to the lesson and was winging it based on colors.

"Blue mixed with green, strange smell. Yellow mixed with clear, a bubbly mess of toxicity. Red mixed with orange, a disgusting foam," Sam said, his pen scribbling along on the paper.

"It is a miracle we are still passing this class," Rachel muttered, grabbing another two vials from their box.

"It's a miracle we haven't blown ourselves up," Sam replied.

Rachel grunted in agreement, and her tongue darted from her mouth as she poured the brown liquid into the purple, gooey, stuff. She waited, so did Sam, and then their teacher was snatching the substance and pouring it down their sink.

"Were you two listening to me at all?" he screeched.

"Uh, yes?" they said simultaneously.

"Then what did I say about mixing these two chemicals?"

"That we should do it and hope for the best?" Rachel guessed sheepishly.

The teacher turned an ugly shade of red, and while he yelled at them about lab safety, Rachel zoned out. She'd been yelled at by Mr. Wright at least a hundred times, and every time, he always ended it with-

"Next time, I won't be so generous. Clean up your stuff. You two can sit the rest of this lab out," he huffed, stomping off back to his seat.

After a moment, Sam passed a semi-blank piece of paper to Rachel while the rest of the class continued to work.

 _What was that in the hall?_

 _ **Instinct.**_

 _Idk what that means._

 ** _She started it._**

 _What did you say to end it?_

 _ **Do you really want to know?**_

 _….not really. She looked like she was about to pass out._

 ** _Good. I am hoping Regina's stubborn streak kicks in. I quite enjoyed watching her come undone._**

 _You just want to watch her….you know._

 ** _Indeed. Many times._**

 _Moving on. When do you want to hit up Mr. A?_

 ** _Eight, same time I said before. Joker will distract O.P._**

 _That is quite possibly the most insulting nickname I've ever heard from you._

 ** _It fits._**

 _Still an insult. Is it just you and me?_

 _ **Yes. R and 10 have a date with a pyramid.**_

 _Sounds kinky._

Rachel glared at Sam and ripped the paper from his notebook. She balled it up and ran it under the water from her sink, smudging the ink until it was illegible, then she tossed it in the trash. For the rest of the class, Sam and Rachel played hangman and talked about what they planned to do over fall break. Four days away from McKinley, away from Quinn, meant four things:

Free Tackle Football w/ the High Knights of the Collective

Bonfires and Margaritas by the pool

Midnight Manhunt

The Collective-Games

It was going to be epic.

* * *

Santana laid out on the auditorium stage, her head in Brittany's lap, and she sighed.

"I'm in deep shit."

"I know."

"I really, really like her."

"I know."

"Holy fuck, I'm in deep shit."

"You said that already."

Santana groaned and sat up straight. "Britt, I'm serious," she whined.

"So am I. You act like I didn't tell you this earlier. I've watched you pine after her for the last couple of years. This revelation is new to you, not me."

"What am I going to do?"

"How about let it happen naturally? It's not like she doesn't like you either."

"You think she likes me?" Santana asked, a flush spreading across her cheeks.

"Seriously?" Brittany deadpanned. "She just pushed you up against the lockers and turned you into a pile of mush. You two slept in the same bed and woke up in each other's arms, and neither one of you panicked about it. You used her bathroom, her spare toothbrush, and you're wearing her clothes. In what universe does she not like you back?"

Santana bit her lip, trying not to smile, and she flopped back down on Brittany's lap. "Okay, maybe you're right," she said.

"I am right. You pain the ass."

"Think I should sing her a song in Glee tomorrow?"

Brittany pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "You're going to take this above and beyond the normal expectations, aren't you?" she asked.

"Of course. Rachel Berry deserves nothing less."

"She's going to kill you."

"Maybe," Santana snorted. "But what a way to go."


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, I have no idea how to write a Russian accent. Don't judge me for it. Zemlyak should mean 'brother' in Russian. I hope.**

 **Mistakes are mine**.

* * *

Rachel hated when plans changed. Especially at the last minute. Eight o'clock was the initial time to visit Mr. Abrams. That allowed them the chance to go home, eat, change clothes, and chill after school. Then, because Rachel wanted to have an actual family dinner, they decided to go directly after school. Noah was supposed to distract Artie under the guise of needing help in math. However, at two-thirty, Noah texted Rachel and told her some of the football players dumped Artie into the dumpsters behind the gym. That meant Artie went home, and Rachel understood him not wanting to come back.

Nonetheless, Rachel and Sam had to come up with another plan on the spot, and they eventually decided on the truth. Rather than Rachel Berry visiting her deceased father's old friend, Eva Krayevsky was in town for a short period to discuss her financial options. Her brunette hair, hidden under a long black wig, matched with a burgundy dress that left little too the imagination made her seem twice her age. Or, at the very least, older than eighteen but younger than twenty-five.

She slipped on some sunglasses, not wanting to put in any contacts, and used her pinky to wipe excess lipstick away from her chin. The only plus side was that she only had to put makeup on her face for decoration, not for disguise, and she was free to have all her piercings and tattoos on display.

Sam took one look at her and nearly fell from the stool he was sitting on at the kitchen island. Puck, who volunteered to be their driver for the day, started choking on the water he'd been drinking. She snapped at them when they kept staring.

"Sorry, just not used to this version of you," Sam said.

"Whatever," she mumbled.

"Alright, which one of the infamous Berry cars do we get to take today?" Noah asked.

Rachel looked up, frowned thoughtfully, and said, "I think we should take the G-Class, the white one with the tinted windows, not the black one." Then she added, "Also, once we leave the Abrams' residence, stop by the school. I texted Brittany earlier and told her we would pick her and Santana up from practice. Sue is keeping them longer than usual because some of the baby Cheerios complained or something like that."

"How is Sue getting home?" Sam asked.

"Oh, my Dad and your Dad dropped off her car while we were at school. I saw them leaving when I was in math," Noah said.

"Um, I'm in your math class," Sam said. "You weren't in class today."

"I never said I was in my math class."

Rachel cleared her throat and said, "Can we go now? It is already five p.m."

"Oh, yeah. Let's hit it."

* * *

"I feel itchy," Sam hissed, holding her arm as they walked up the driveway.

"No one told you to wear a beard," she pointed out.

"Puck said I looked older."

"And you believed him?"

Sam pouted, and Rachel laughed at his expression. Noah always went above and beyond with teasing Sam. They were like the brothers she never had, and she loved them both, despite what Noah believed. Rachel appreciated Noah, more than she often let on. He was even carrying a gun for her, and Noah hated guns.

"I won't let anything happen to you, either of you. You're my family, and I always protect my family," he'd said.

Rachel smiled at that. Noah was her Joker, her Jester, and she needed to make that official over the break.

"I forgot how much I like that piercing on you," Sam whispered, slowing down as they got closer to the front steps.

"Which one?"

"The one in your eyebrow. Makes you look badass."

Rachel smirked and stood up a little straighter as they climbed the stairs. "You forget, Zemlyak, I haff alvays been a badass," she said, slipping into her accent.

Sam knocked on the door and ran a hand through the brunette wig he wore. It was creepy, but he looked nothing like Sam Evans, and that was the point. He even added a little limp to his walk to pull it all together.

The door opened, and Rachel forced a look of surprise on her face at seeing Artie.

"Hello," she greeted. "I am looking for Arthur?"

He scowled. "Yeah, that's my dad. Who are you supposed to be?" he asked.

"Old friends," she drawled.

"Sure. He's out back. Walk around, and you'll run right into him."

"Vill you not come with us?"

"There isn't a ramp out there," Artie said, annoyance dripping from his tone.

Rachel licked her lips and stepped back. "Of course. My apologies."

"Whatever. You need anything else?"

"No, it vas a pleasure-

The door slammed, and Rachel rolled her eyes. "He's even worse at home," she muttered.

Sam grunted in agreement, and they made their way around the house. Sure enough, just as Artie said, they ran right into his father.

"Mr. Abrams?" Rachel called out.

"Yes?" he said, looking up from his gardening.

"I am Eva. Ve spoke on the phone, yes?"

His eyes widened and shot to the house where Artie was blatantly looking out of the window. Brushing his hands on his pants, Mr. Abrams stood up and threw his gloves on the ground.

"Yes, right. I expected you later, but no matter. Will you join me in my office?" he said, gesturing towards the garage. "I can assure you our business will be confidential."

She nodded, and Sam placed his hand on her lower back as they followed Mr. Abrams into the garage. The look was more intimate than it was. Rachel had a gun strapped to her back, her jacket covering the holster, and she knew it would look less suspicious than her walking around with her hands behind her back.

The trio entered the garage, and Mr. Abrams lowered it once Rachel and Sam sat down on the couch. He pressed a few buttons on the wall, and there was the sound of something shutting down.

"My son likes to hack into my system. I've created a way to do my business outside of the family WiFi," he explained.

"He is, how you say, nosy?" she asked.

"Something like that. I don't want him snooping around. He can't keep his mouth closed, and I don't want him blabbing to his friends about what I do for a living."

"Ah, yes. Teenagers can be quite invested in what others think of them. I vill never understand."

"Are you not one of them?" he asked. "Leroy said you were eighteen."

Rachel gave him a secret smile and said, "I never said I vas not, Mr. Abrams. I merely gave my opinion on the matter."

"Of course, and for the record, please call me Arthur. Mr. Abrams makes me sound old. Second," he typed something into his computer, "I went ahead and moved your money into one account. Shortly after you called, I came out here and got to work. Your father had more than finances he needed to move, information also, and I didn't want to risk someone else getting their hands on it. All I need from you today are the account numbers from the other individuals listed on the paperwork so that they can have access to their funds by tomorrow morning."

"Um, okay, sure," she said, losing her cool for only a moment.

She anticipated a long, drawn out process, and his efficiency caught her off guard. Sam reached into his pocket and put a piece a paper on the table. The accounts weren't connected to anyone but Sue. Santana and the others could access the money whenever they wanted, but Rachel wasn't entirely sure she could trust Arthur, regardless of how much her father once did, and she didn't want their names attached to anything.

"Thanks. It was weird when I read the names on the list, but then again, things aren't always as they seem, are they?"

Rachel tensed, and Arthur chuckled at her reaction.

"Don't worry. I'm smart enough to keep my mouth shut. It was wise of you to come in disguise, as my son probably would have questioned me fruitlessly as to why one of his classmates was visiting."

"How long?" she sighed.

"Since I first received the paperwork. You see, I needed both your legal name and birth name for the information, and Leroy was hesitant at first, but he eventually gave me what I needed. I made a vow to never repeat it at the risk of losing more than my job if you understand my meaning."

"I do, and you are smart to haff made that decision."

"Why the fake accent, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Vat makes you think this is fake? Who is to say the other is not?"

Arthur tilted his head in acknowledgment, and they settled into a comfortable silence. It was thirty minutes later when Arthur printed off two documents and handed them over.

"Here you go. They can access the accounts using these pin numbers."

"Thank you," Rachel said, handing the documents to Sam.

They stood up, ready to leave, and Arthur lifted the garage door. Rachel caught Artie trying to hide behind the blinds, his phone to his ear, and she wondered if she would have rumors going around tomorrow about the strange Russian chick in Lima.

"Oh, and Miss. Krayevsky?" She turned at the use of her birth name, and Arthur gave a small bow. "I am sorry for your loss. Your father was a great man," he said.

Rachel bowed in response but said nothing. Sam gently steered her towards the exit and to the car. She thanked him when he opened the door, and Noah was already pulling away by the time Sam shut his door.

"So?" Noah prompted. "How'd it go?"

"It vas okay. I vas shocked to hear that he knew who I vas, but ve cannot help these things," she sighed. "For me to get the money, my birth and legal name were needed for the paperwork."

"Oh. To the girls?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "To the girls."

* * *

Santana was on her knees on the turf. She had Brittany on her back with Quinn on Brittany's shoulders. Santana didn't know what she did to deserve being on the bottom, but then she realized Sue wasn't punishing her. Being at the bottom meant she trusted her to keep things steady, and that was the only reason Santana hadn't stood up and forced the other girls to the ground.

Plus, Brittany would kill her if she let her fall.

"Alright, enough!" Sue screamed into the megaphone. "Go hit the showers. You reek of failure and disappointment. I am sickened and disgusted by what I have seen, but since I have to meet the requirements for competition, none of you will be kicked from the team."

Some of the freshmen ran off crying, the sophomores limped behind them, and the juniors just kept their mouths shut and their heads down. Santana, Quinn, and Brittany were the only seniors and the last to hit the showers.

"Did she seem angrier than usual today?" Quinn huffed, wincing as she sat down on the bench.

"Well, some of the baby Cheerios complained about the length of practices and how early they were during the morning. Coach found out and decided to punish the whole team," Santana said, conveniently leaving out the fact she was the one who told Sue about the comments.

However, she was beginning to regret it.

"Well, I'm going home to shower. I want to be able to relax and not worry about getting locked in."

"Same here," Santana said, already daydreaming about taking a bath in Rachel's bathroom.

"What's with the goofy look on your face?" Quinn asked.

"Huh? Oh, just thinking about taking a long bath tonight."

"Right. Well, you guys ready?"

Santana and Brittany shared a look when Quinn bent down to pick up her bag. They were ready to go, but they were hoping Quinn would leave first. Sighing inwardly, Santana smiled and pretended she was thrilled with the notion of walking out with Quinn.

"Wait, how are you two getting home? I didn't see your cars in the parking lot today."

"We have a ride," Brittany said.

"We do?" Santana asked.

Brittany just winked. The walk outside was mostly Quinn talking about how she wanted to get Sam back, how much she missed him, and it made Santana wish she was back out making hundred-yard sprints. The girl was delusional if she thought Sam was going to get back with her just because she offered him the chance to touch her boobs.

"I wonder what they're looking at," Brittany said, pointing to the crowd of Cheerios standing at the door, and thankfully cutting off Quinn.

"Who knows," Quinn sighed. She cleared her throat and then yelled, "Move!"

The baby Cheerios yelped and scrambled to the side, letting the trio through.

"Oh," Quinn breathed out. "Is that a-

"Mercedes G-Class?" Brittany finished. "Yes."

Santana's hand tightened around the bag hanging from her shoulders, and she pinched Brittany when the other girl started to snicker under her breath.

"Did you know about this?" she hissed.

"Partly. I didn't know about the car," Brittany whispered back.

The backdoor opened, and all Santana saw were legs. Long, tan legs draped in burgundy with tattoos littered all over the skin and a pair of silver heels on concrete. Then the rest of the body followed, and even with the eyebrow piercing and the pleased grin on Brittany's face, Santana still would've recognized the 'woman' standing in front of them.

"Bonjour mes amores," the woman called out in near-perfect French.

"I hate her," she muttered to Brittany.

"Why?"

"Because who speaks almost fluently in ever language they speak?" she hissed.

Brittany rolled her eyes, and Santana glared at the back of the blonde's head as she skipped over to the car and kissed the 'woman' on the cheek before climbing into the backseat. Santana followed slowly after, ignoring the weird look Quinn was giving her, and a purple-stained lip disappeared between perfect white teeth as Rachel tried not to smile.

She was trying to kill her, Santana was sure of it.

"Bonjour ma reine," Rachel said sweetly.

"You're really milking this, aren't you?" she gritted out.

"Oh, I am enjoying it immensely."

Santana huffed and crawled in to sit beside Brittany. Rachel got in after, and Santana belatedly realized it was Puck driving. The car pulled out of the lot, the cheerleaders still staring after them, and Santana saw Brittany studying the windows.

"This tint is incredible," Brittany said. "When you said you were picking us up, I didn't imagine it would be in this."

"I wanted to make an impression."

"An impression? Or brag a little?"

"Can I not do both?"

"Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but you guys do know Quinn isn't going to let this slide tomorrow, right? Especially since Britt and I both got picked up by a pretty woman in a G-Class," Santana said.

"She will be fine."

"You think I'm pretty?"

Santana ignored Sam's comment and focused on Rachel. "I- uh, yes?" she said slowly.

"Why did you say it like that?" Sam asked.

"Shut it, Evans," she growled.

What? I'm only saying it sounded like you were unsure."

"He's not wrong," Brittany chimed in.

Santana clenched her jaw, glaring at the two blondes, and she lost her train of thought when Rachel crossed her legs, showing off that damned thigh slit. She wanted to reach out and trace the lines of the Latin script etched onto Rachel's skin, but common sense told her to keep her hands to herself.

That and the car full of people.

Santana looked around and noticed they were pulling into the compound, Puck nodding to the guard at the gates. Santana turned back and saw Rachel playing with her fingers, her foot shaking against the back of Sam's seat.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked.

Rachel hesitated, her eyes flickering to the front of the car, and she smiled tightly. Understanding she didn't want to talk until they were alone, Santana reached down and linked their fingers together, squeezing to let her know she could wait. The drive to the main house felt longer than average, and that was probably because Santana was asleep the first time. Eventually, Puck pulled in front of the garage, and the car stopped. Sam, Brittany, and Puck got out of the vehicle, making as little noise as possible, and Santana felt Rachel relax against the seat.

"Sorry about that," Rachel sighed. "I normally have no problem expressing myself, but-

"It's different with certain things," Santana interrupted.

Rachel nodded and looked down at their intertwined fingers. "Do- do you really think I am pretty?" she asked.

Santana had to strain to hear her, even in the silence of the car, but once the question registered, she realized her mistake earlier.

"I don't think you're pretty," she said. Before Rachel could pull away, she added, "I think you're more than that. Pretty is what you call a nice dress or a pair of sunglasses. You are beautiful, beyond beautiful, and I should've said that before."

Rachel turned red, and a piece of hair fell in front of her face. Santana used her free hand to tuck it back behind Rachel's ear, and said, "Is it weird I miss the other color?"

"No, I do too. I also miss my pants."

Santana pursed her lips and looked back down at the thigh slit "Well," she mused. "I wouldn't go that far."

Rachel rolled her eyes and opened the door. Instead of being in the middle of a crowded hallway, they were in the cramped backseat of a G-Class, and Rachel cupped Santana's face. She smiled and kissed her cheek.

"For the record, I think you are beautiful too, Koroleva," she whispered.

Santana leaned forward, determined to steal an actual kiss, but Rachel put a finger over her lips.

"You think we are going to share our first kiss in the back of a car?" she said. "Not happening."

Then she was gone.

Santana sat there, in disbelief, and Brittany tugged on her arm.

"Hey, come on. Puck has to park the car for the night."

She clicked her tongue against her teeth, already planning on getting Rachel back when an idea came to mind. Getting out of the car, she made sure Sam and Rachel weren't around before she asked, "Hey, can you two help me tomorrow in Glee? I need a guitar and a drummer not named Finn or that other guy."

"I told you I would help already, though I don't know why you need a drummer for a ballad," Brittany said, narrowing her eyes.

"I changed my mind."

"Of course, you did."

"I'm down," Puck said. "But what are you singing?"

"It's a surprise. You know it though, so you don't need to practice that much. All you two need to know is that it's for Rachel, and I want it to be special, but I also want to get her back for all the times she's caught me off guard."

Brittany cocked an eyebrow and asked, "You're going to seduce her in front of the Glee Club, aren't you?"

"Absolutely."

Puck groaned out loud. "I definitely should've waited before I agreed to this."

"Probably, but you're in it now."


	7. Chapter 7

**The song is 'I Get Off' by Halestorm because...why not?**

* * *

Sure enough, Artie and Quinn proved Rachel right.

By the time the second-period bell rang, most of the school was talking about the strange woman that'd come to pick up Brittany and Santana, and Artie cosigned it by saying that same woman was at his house that same day.

The rumors were running rampant, and Brittany loved it all, but she had her mind elsewhere. She was standing in front of her third period, alone, and she was glad her face showed that she didn't want to be bothered.

There was a change in the group's dynamic, a good one, but a change nevertheless. The night before, they stayed up until two in the morning playing video games and watching movies, and it was fun. They were like siblings, laughing and cracking jokes, and with the emotional roller coaster over the last few weeks, it was relaxing not to have that cloud hanging over them. However, it was another dynamic that had her lost in thought.

Santana.

She loved her best friend, knew most of the school had the wrong impression of her because of rumors, but never did Brittany think she could crack the code of Eva Krayevsky.

That morning, Santana was down before everyone and had cooked an actual breakfast. Pancakes (blueberry for Brittany), eggs, hash-browns, and turkey sausage with coffee; the toaster, peanut butter, and honey nowhere in sight.

When Rachel came down, Santana put down a plate of food in front of her, and everyone waited to see what would happen next. Never in the last decade had Rachel eaten anything other than peanut butter and honey toast but she ate every bite and then disappeared upstairs to finish getting ready. Santana nodded to herself and started putting up the food. She was at the sink, elbow deep in warm, soapy water when Sam said what they were all thinking.

"I think that's the first time she's eaten actual food for breakfast since her Papa was alive."

She'd paused in her cleaning and said, "Well, when was the last time someone cooked for her?"

Brittany remembered the amount of embarrassment that spread through the kitchen because Santana's question caught them by surprise. The truth was no one bothered to try.

What Santana said next shocked the hell out of everyone and dug that metaphorical knife in just a little deeper. "Exactly. You guys got so used to her eating that crap for breakfast, convincing yourself she didn't want anything else, that you never bothered to cook or ask if she wanted something else. Don't be shocked she ate food, be shocked it took you guys a decade and the arrival of someone new to figure it out."

It destroyed their pride to hear that. Santana had come in, picked up on quirks that they should've years ago, and was single-handedly fixing them.

The scary thing was Santana had no idea that Hiram used to cook for her all the time. Sam told Brittany and Puck in private that when they were younger, Hiram would cook a massive breakfast every morning and would do the same for dinner. After he died, Rachel's first breakfast without her Papa around was peanut butter and honey toast.

Santana cooked that morning because she wanted to, not because she had to.

Brittany sighed when the third-period bell sounded and kicked off the lockers. The change was a good thing, and she hoped that it would translate into their school lives as well. Brittany was tired of being the dumb blonde and Quinn's left-hand. She wanted to be herself, and maybe having Santana around could make that happen.

* * *

"What are you wearing?"

Rachel looked up from her lunch and glanced between Kurt and Mercedes. "Um, clothes?" she said, putting down her spoon.

She usually brought a skimpy salad for lunch, but it was pizza day. Pepperoni pizza was always a plus.

"No, you are wearing regular people clothes. What happened to the animal sweaters and stockings?" Kurt asked.

"I didn't do laundry last night, so this is all I had."

The truth was Rachel was too busy freaking out over the fact Santana made her breakfast to pay attention to what she'd picked out to wear. But it wasn't that bad. She was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Not a damn dominatrix outfit or some weird shit like that.

"Did you hear that?" Kurt fake-whispered. "She used a contraction!"

Rachel rolled her eyes and wiped her hands on a napkin. "What do you guys want?" she sighed.

"We're just trying to figure out what's different about you. You've been off all day, and it's not just your clothes. So, what's up? What's changed?" Mercedes said.

Before Rachel could respond, her pizza disappeared, replaced by a plate of lasagna, salad, and a piece of garlic toast. She frowned a little, confused, and when she turned around, Santana was already walking out of the cafeteria with Brittany and Noah.

"Why is Satan bringing you food from BreadStix?" Kurt said.

Rachel looked down at the napkin tucked under the plate, along with the scribbling on the side, and smiled. "Do not call her that. And this isn't from BreadStix."

"Where else are you going to get Italian food in Lima, Ohio?"

Rachel crumpled up the napkin and shrugged. She knew Santana cooked her own food in the Home-Ec kitchen, and she felt a warmth settle in her stomach at the thought that she made enough for Rachel. Kurt and Mercedes kept pressing her, asking questions, but Rachel stopped listening. For one, Santana was a damn good cook, and not a single morsel should go wasted, and two, she was too busy thinking about the last time she had a home-cooked meal.

Guess having Santana around wasn't all that bad…

* * *

"Holy shit."

"I know right?"

"Ace is going to lose it."

"Oh yeah."

"Think she's going to crack in or after?"

Brittany looked back at Santana, eyes taking in the low-hanging leather pants, the crop top that stopped just a little under her breasts, and the jacket Santana stole from Rachel, and said, "I have no idea."

"She's going to cream her pants."

"Gross, dude."

"You know it's true."

"I mean, yeah, but still."

Santana walked over, her heels clicking on the auditorium floor and the dragon tattoo on her hip peeking out, and that's when Brittany saw the red contacts and-

"Are you wearing fangs?" she asked.

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Because I learned last night that Rachel has a thing for vampires," Santana said, fluffing out her hair.

"I'm not sure if I like this game you two are playing. It's becoming weird," Puck said.

"It's only just starting. Ready to rock this thing out?"

"You mean are we ready to watch you seduce Rachel in front of the entire Glee Club?"

"Same thing."

* * *

Sam was acting weird. He kept glancing towards the door, his phone in his hands, and he refused to look Rachel directly in the eye. Then there was the fact Brittany, Santana, and Noah was not in the meeting.

Something was up.

"Alright, so, today is a free for all," Mister Schue said. "If anyone wants to perform, come on down."

Rachel saw Sam shift in his seat, and just as Finn stood up, the door opened, and Brittany walked in. At least, the Brittany she knew. Noah came in after, a guitar hanging off his hip, and Rachel stared accusingly at Sam. He smiled sheepishly and stood up also. He walked down the stairs, whispered to Brad, and then sat down behind the keys.

Rachel made a face when Brittany put a chair in the middle of the room. The blonde then came up to Rachel and held out her hand.

"It would be better if you just went with it," she said.

Rachel sneered at the comment but let Brittany lead her to the chair. She sat down, and Brittany went over to sit behind the drums.

"You play drums?" Finn asked her.

"Yep."

"Okay, what's going on?" Kurt asked. "Which one of you is performing?"

Instead of giving a verbal answer, Puck strummed a few chords, and Brittany started to play. It took about five seconds for Rachel to recognize the song, and her head snapped to the side as the door opened.

 _You don't know that I know,_

 _You watch me every night_

Rachel cringed at the truth in that line, but it only lasted for a second once she took in Santana's outfit.

Well, fuck, she thought.

 _And I just can't resist the urge_

 _To stand here in the light_

 _Your greedy eyes upon me_

 _And then I come undone_

 _And I could close the curtains_

 _But this too much fun_

Santana came and sat down in Rachel's lap. That's when she saw the red contacts, and she gasped. Santana grinned and continued to sing.

 _I get off on you_

 _Getting off on me_

 _I give you what you want_

 _But nothing is for free_

Hips ground down, and Rachel tried to put her hands on Santana's waist. They were smacked away, and Santana's eyes warned her that if she did that again, the fun would stop.

 _It's a give and take_

 _Kinda life we make_

 _When your line is crossed_

 _I get off_

 _I get off_

Rachel was feeling more than one emotion. She was angry that Santana managed to catch her off guard in the one place Rachel couldn't react the way she wanted. She was irritated, and a little shocked, Sam and the others kept it a secret. She was pissed Santana picked that song. And she was getting horny as hell with Santana grinding down in her lap, the combination of her voice and the dancing making it hard to concentrate on being the Lima version of Rachel Berry.

 _So much left unspoken_

 _Between the two of us_

 _It's so much more exciting_

 _To look when you can touch_

Rachel took a deep breath when Santana's hand got dangerously close to a territory they couldn't explore. Yet

 _You could say I am different_

 _And maybe I'm a freak_

 _But I know how to twist ya_

 _To bring you to your knees_

At that, Santana slid down and ran her hands up Rachels' thighs, giving her a look that said more than the lyrics ever could.

 _I get off on you_

 _Getting off on me_

 _I give you what you want_

 _But nothing is for free_

 _It's a give and take_

 _Kinda life we make_

 _When your line is crossed_

 _I get off_

 _I get off_

At the musical break, Rachel risked a look around the room. Quinn looked livid. Finn looked confused. However, her attention was diverted when Santana straddled her waist, and the music stopped playing.

 _But you don't know_

 _But you can't see_

 _It's what you forgive_

 _Out here for me_

The silence in the room would've been deafening had it not been for Rachel's heart beating out of her chest. Santana draped her arms over Rachel's shoulders, and practically sang the last two lines centimeters from her lips.

 _I get off on you_

 _Getting off on me_

Rachel dug her nails into Santana's hips.

Stay Strong.

Stay Strong.

That mantra went through her head the entire time, Santana's fingers toying with the hair at the back of her neck, but then she smirked. That's when Rachel saw those damn fangs up close. Her obsession with vampires aside, Santana played her cards right, and Rachel's resolved shattered.

Unfortunately, before she could take advantage of their position, Santana stood up, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and left. Rachel stared after her, mouth wide open, and she jumped up from the chair.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" she screeched.

Noah and Brittany high-tailed it out of there, and Sam fell over the bench trying to escape but managed to get out in time. Rachel took off after them, and not one of them noticed the mixed expressions of shock, confusion, and rage on the faces of their clubmates.

* * *

Santana hopped her way down the hall, trying to get her second heel off so she could properly run, and she yelped when Puck came up behind her and picked her up. He threw her over his shoulder, and that's when Santana saw Rachel run out of the choir room.

"She looks mad," she pointed out.

"No shit!"

The goal was to make it to the parking lot. The trip home would be much better if they got away with this, but her fellow cohorts betrayed her. Puck came to a stop by the girl's bathroom and put Santana down. She lost her balance trying to catch him before he ran off, and she fell back onto the floor, one heel flying to the other side of the hall.

"Sorry, babe. Survival of the fittest!"

"YOU ASSHOLE!" she shouted after him.

Brittany gave her an apologetic smile, her hands full with Puck's guitar and her sticks, while Sam just laughed. Santana watched the three of them leave out the front door, and she huffed.

"Fucking traitors," she grumbled.

A shadow fell over her, and Santana gulped. Rachel had one heel in her hand while Santana had the other, and the tension between them rose another hundred degrees.

"So, we're good, right? This doesn't have to be a thing."

Rachel bent down and pulled Santana to her feet.

"Alright, look, in hindsight, that was a bad idea but in my defense-

"Shut. Up."

Rachel went past the bathroom towards the main offices, and Santana's bravado fizzled out. Rachel was deceptively strong for her size, which didn't help the thoughts running through her mind. Just the images of Rachel holding her down and doing whatever she pleased both excited and scared her. It wasn't until they turned down a familiar hallway did Santana realize where they were headed.

"Wait, are you taking me-

"What. Did. I. Say?" Rachel said, briefly stopping to back Santana into a wall.

Santana closed her mouth, her nerves grabbing ahold of her vocal chords and squeezing, and she kept quiet as they continued their journey. Rachel knocked once on the door, and Santana heard Coach Sue say come in.

"Hey, Ace, Lopez. Shouldn't you two be in Glee?" Sue asked, putting down her glasses.

"Can we borrow the office for a sec?" Rachel asked. "Fifteen minutes tops."

Sue looked between them, a wry smile on her face, and she said, "Sure. I haven't bothered Will today anyway. Plus, I feel like I need to do damage control on whatever you did."

"It was not me this time."

"I take it that's why you have one of my best cheerleaders looking like a child about to be disciplined?"

"Yes."

Sue laughed and stood up from her desk. Santana shook her head, desperately trying to tell her not to leave them alone, but her Coach smiled and patted her on the arm.

"Goddaughter trumps favorite student any day, kid. Remember that."

Sue closed the door, and Santana heard a key in the lock. She turned when Rachel let go of her arm, and the brunette perched on the edge of the desk.

"You gave me a lap dance in front of the Glee club."

Santana hesitated, and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"You can talk now," she said.

"Okay, yes, I gave you a lap dance, but it was the only thing I could think of to get you back for the thing in the hallway-

"You straddled my waist, performed a song from one of my favorite bands, and wore fangs and red contacts."

"Well, I recently discovered you have a thing for vampires. I had them left over from Halloween last year. Also, I didn't know that was your favorite band, and-

"You fixed me breakfast, and you went above and beyond to make sure I had a home-cooked meal for lunch, even though you knew it would be risky bringing it to me in the cafeteria."

"Well, yeah. You eat like shit, and I like to cook, so I figured-

"I should fuck you right here, right now, and make you scream my name so loud the entire Glee Club hears you."

Santana felt the wind get knocked from her and her mind blanked. Rachel got off the desk and held out her hand.

"But since we do not have the time I desire, I guess I will have to show my appreciation another way. Give me your other shoe, please."

Santana did as told.

"Now, stand against the wall."

She moved back slowly, wondering what the hell was going on, but Rachel's face was unreadable.

"Arms up, above your head."

She felt her shirt rise and knew she was showing off more than she intended. Rachel came up, nipped Santana's neck, and then got down on her knees. Her eyes widened when Rachel started to undo her pants, but the other girl stopped.

"Wait, is this okay? Because I want to make sure I am reading the right-

"For fuck's sake, I wouldn't be standing here like this if I didn't want it," Santana said, swooning a little despite her response.

Rachel shrugged and pulled Santana's pants down to her ankles. She remembered one detail only Brittany knew about, and probably should've told Rachel about her-

"You have got to be kidding me," Rachel murmured. "Why am I just now finding out about this?"

"I didn't feel the need to tell you because I wasn't planning on you seeing it so soon, now, in this office," Santana said defensively.

"But, I mean, this is-

"I know, alright?" Santana cut her off. "Britt and I thought it would be a fun story to tell, but it ended up being a long night of crying and cursing each other out. You should be happy it's healed."

Rachel hummed and with some maneuvering was able to get Santana's right leg over her shoulder. "Believe me, Koroleva, I am very happy right now," she said.

"Oh, God. Are you seriously about to do this in your Godmother's office?"

The last of her conscious thought went out of the window when Rachel laughed and kissed the inside of her thigh.

"Her office is soundproof. But would you like for me to stop?"

"Fuck no," Santana exhaled, arching up a little when Rachel's kisses moved higher.

"Then shut up," she stopped and ghosted her lips over Santana's piercing, "and let me show my appreciation."


	8. Chapter 8

Rachel ran her fingers down Santana's spine, the tan skin on display doing wonders for her imagination, and she smiled as she thought about their fun in the office. Going down on Santana was one of the best experiences she'd ever had. The taste, the sounds made when Rachel flicked her tongue over her clit, and the face Santana made when she came- Rachel shook her head to clear away the thoughts. She wanted more, but Sue interrupted their fun and drove them home. They made a pit-stop by Santana's place, letting her grab some clothes and her spare uniform. Rachel avoided the others, mostly because she wanted to lock herself in her bedroom with Santana, and the plan worked. Well, almost.

Quinn called, and called, and called.

Santana groaned and, shirtless, pants-less and braless, stood up and answered. Their call lasted for nearly an hour, and by the time Santana hung up, she was fuming. Instead of a long night of rough sex and whatever else came with it, Rachel had Santana lie down and gave her a back massage. Eventually, she fell asleep, and Rachel watched her while she slept.

"Quit staring at me. It's weird."

"So is pretending to be asleep," Rachel said wryly.

"I wasn't pretending. I was enjoying the peace before the real world intervenes. I know you've heard my phone vibrating."

"Yep." Rachel turned over and checked the screen, "Missed calls from everyone in Glee, and everyone left a voicemail and several text messages. Even Mike," she said.

"How wonderful," Santana drawled.

Rachel bent down and pressed kisses on Santana's shoulder, addicted to the taste of her skin, and asked something she'd been thinking about while the other girl slept, "What did you mean when you said you stayed because of me?"

Santana sighed and turned over. She said, "I was wondering when you would bring that up."

"Was I not supposed to?"

Santana leaned up on her elbow and pulled the blanket up to cover her chest. "That wasn't what I was saying. Anyway, do you remember when I got to school late after winter break last year?" she asked. "I told everyone I was sick?"

Rachel nodded.

"Well, I wasn't sick. I was in Tuscany, hence my ability to speak Italian. I was participating in a competition that went longer than I planned. I couldn't tell anyone where I was going as it was technically illegal and ran by the type of people that don't like uninvited strangers nosing around in their business. Fast forward, I ended up winning, and one of the judges offered me a job within his organization. It was a fantastic opportunity for me, but there were many reasons for me to turn it down. One, I would have to move to Italy full-time, and I wouldn't be able to tell anyone why I was leaving. Contractual obligations. Two, I would have to 'die' and live in the shadows. I couldn't do that to my father, not after Mom and Teo. And three, I would miss my friends, mostly Brittany and Puck to some extent, but there was one person I would miss the most.

"You see, I don't know if you noticed this or not, but I've kinda had a crush on you for a while now. Way before I saw you in the bar. Brittany knew, she would catch me staring, and when the judge offered me the job, I couldn't imagine not seeing you anymore. Sure, I knew there was a chance we would never get together or be anything more than classmates, but I didn't care. I didn't want to risk never seeing you again, not without at least telling you how I felt, and so I turned him down."

"You turned down a dream job for me?"

"I never said it was a dream job and I'm almost positive I listed two other reasons why I didn't want to take the job, but sure, you were the motivating factor."

"You expect me to believe that?" Rachel asked. "You tortured me, called me names, and turned me into a popsicle more often than not, and you get the opportunity of a lifetime, but you say no because of some crush on me?"

"Do you even realize I stopped doing that almost two years ago? Huh? Or are you so accustomed to me being a bitch and a bully you assumed I was behind most of it if Quinn wasn't around?"

Rachel knew they were treading into thin ice territory, so she worded her response carefully. "I did not mean to imply that you were lying. I should have said it another way, but how can I believe you liked me after all of that? Hell, I am having a hard time believing it now. I am still waiting for the other shoe to drop, and that Quinn is going to pop up and tell me how much of an idiot I am for thinking a girl like you could-

Santana rolled over on top of Rachel and clamped a hand over her mouth. "If you finish that sentence the way I think you are, I will get up and leave this bed," she warned. "This isn't a movie, and we're not some romantic comedy duo caught up in the highs and lows of high school. I'm an award-winning, internationally known sharp-shooter who has lost both a mother and a brother to gun violence. I'm also a lesbian in a small town where being gay is almost as bad as being Hispanic, and I can't begin to explain the shit my father and I go through behind closed doors in this backward-thinking wasteland.

"You are the daughter of a freaking mercenary who was responsible for the death of so many different men and women that I'm sure the various governments lost count. You're also the sole heir of a family with ties to three different Russian mobs, and your other father was a damn spy that technically didn't exist. Trust me when I say that yes, a girl like me can like a girl like you because we're not like other girls.

"I like you because I can see you are stronger than you look, and I mean that in every way possible. I think you're a great judge of character and, honestly, hearing you sing both brings me to my knees and gives me goosebumps. You get on my nerves like the best of them, and you make me want to slap the fuck out of you most days. You're stubborn, emotionally volatile, and I know you have a temper, I can see it lurking in your eyes when you get irritated or frustrated, but you're sweet when you want to be. You're protective, and you love with everything in you. Your heart is as big as your ego, and you never let anyone you care about get hurt.

"You make me feel safe, and I don't feel like I have to keep secrets around you. I can be me with no exceptions or excuses, and you have no idea how much that means after pretending to be something I'm not for the last few years. You drive me crazy in both a good and a bad way. So, yes, Rachel, I turned down a damn job for you, and if you still don't believe me, then we can chalk the last few weeks up to temporary insanity on my part."

When she didn't immediately respond, Santana scoffed and was halfway off the bed when Rachel reached out and tugged her back on the mattress. That time, she was the one who was on top, and she was the one with her hand over Santana's mouth. They stared at one another, one irritated and the other annoyed, and Rachel clicked her tongue against her teeth.

"You are as frustrating as I thought you would be," she huffed. "And you will have to excuse me because even this daughter of a mercenary and a spy gets insecure about the girl she loves. Since neither one of us has explicitly stated that we are in a romantic relationship together, then you will have to excuse me again for thinking this is nothing more than fun. Truthfully, I hope this is more than that because I want whatever this is more than anything. I could never get close to a girl because I was afraid she would run once she discovered what all I could do, what all I have seen, and who all have been in and out of my house. And, since you are not like other girls, I can be honest with who I am because you can relate and understand the other side of life. Your father patches up thieves, serial killers, spies, and mercenaries as a hobby for fuck's sake. But beyond all of that, you are more than I could have ever dreamed. You are my weakness and my strength, and I could continue but if I started to list the things I love about you we would be up for the rest of the night."

Santana peeled Rachel's hand away from her mouth and flipped them back over. "You love me?" she asked, her face unreadable.

"Yes," Rachel said, exasperated. "Though I was hoping to say that over a romantic dinner or at the very least after I have asked you to be my girlfriend."

"I don't know if you've realized this or not, but we've been winging this thing. I normally don't have sex with someone before the first date."

"But we still have yet to have actual sex," Rachel pointed out. "Well, the kind of sex that is beneficial to us both."

"Are you complaining?"

"Merely stating facts, dear."

"Keep being a smart-ass and we won't be having the beneficial kind of sex anytime soon."

When her phone vibrated for the third time in a matter of ten minutes, Rachel scowled and reached over to grab it. "Answer this damn thing before I break it," she growled.

Santana sat up, using her finger to keep Rachel in place, and answered, "Hello?"

The look on her face told Rachel it was Quinn again, and Santana put the call on mute. She looked at Rachel and bent down.

"I love you too," she whispered, kissing her on the cheek. Then she added, "Though I was going to wait before I told you that. Probably over a nice dinner or after you manned up and asked me to be your girlfriend."

Rachel flicked Santana on the ear for the sarcasm. "Ass," she muttered.

"You love it."

"Very much."

Santana smiled and sat back up before she unmuted the call, and Rachel decided to stay where she was. She couldn't hear everything that Quinn was saying but based on Santana's responses the other girl wasn't too happy about the change in their relationship.

"Who I date is none of your business," Santana sighed. "Despite what you may believe, you are my captain at school not my captain at home. I can fuck, kiss, and dance on any girl I want, and I want it to be Rachel. She is my girlfriend, get over it."

"Who said I was your girlfriend?" Rachel asked.

Santana muted the call again and said, "Do you truly have to ask me? Why can't we agree to disagree and move on?"

"Yes! It is respectful, and, I was going to cook and have candles and all that other romantic shit girls like."

"I hate candle-lit dinners. Also, you eat like shit, so I can only imagine you cook like you eat. But if you insist, fine, I'll play along. But I'm cooking."

"Some of my eating habits aren't all bad," she pointed out. "Sometimes I eat things that are very important to my diet."

Santana snorted. "Despite what you keep telling yourself, eating sweet potato fries with your burger doesn't make the meal healthier. Especially after you add extra bacon and cheese to your already loaded cheeseburger."

"You were all too willing to finish off that burger when I got full."

Santana puffed out her cheeks before she went back to talking to Quinn and said, "Can you at least call her Berry? I might punch you in the throat the next time you call her Treasure Trail."

Bored, Rachel scooted down the bed until her head was in between Santana's legs. She gripped Santana's hips and brought her down far enough that she didn't strain her neck. Weighing her options, Rachel wanted nothing more than to stick three fingers in Santana's pussy and fuck her soon-to-be girlfriend while she was on the phone. But Rachel was becoming hooked on the way Santana tasted. So, she waited for the right moment, and then she stuck her tongue as far as she could inside of Santana.

"Shit!" Santana ground her hips and leaned forward to grab the headboard. "What? Yes- no, I'm not having sex- I hit my knee on the dresser," she lied, glaring down at Rachel.

Seeing as Santana was grinding down instead of trying to move away, Rachel replaced her tongue with two fingers and wrapped her lips around Santana's clit. The phone fell against the pillow, and tan fingers put the call on speakerphone. Quinn was still ranting, unaware that Santana was no longer listening. Curling her fingers, Rachel started to hum under her breath, and Santana quickly put the call on mute while she whimpered and begged Rachel to go faster.

 _"…and what about the woman that picked up you and Brittany, huh? I thought you were fucking her not Berry! Whatever you got going on in your head is ridiculous, Santana. You can't just go around letting strays into your bed like Berry. Who knows what kind of diseases she has!"_

Rachel, irritated at the comment, accidentally bit down on Santana's clit, and she panicked when Santana screamed out. She'd forgotten that Santana's piercing was still sensitive.

"Fuck, baby," she whined. "Do that a-again."

Okay, maybe not that sensitive.

Rachel did it again, keeping a fast pace with her fingers, and she watched Santana's face contort. She came at the same time someone knocked on the bedroom door. Rolling her eyes at the interruption, Rachel lifted Santana just enough to tell whoever it was to give her a sec.

"Am I bleeding?"

She glanced up and saw blood dripping down Santana's chin, and Rachel guessed she bit through her lip.

"Yeah, you are a little."

Santana used her thumb to swipe under her chin and then reached down to end the call with Quinn, the blonde still talking. Eventually, the person on the other side of the door knocked again more firmly. Then Brittany's voice filtered in through the wood.

"Hey, Ace? I know this is a bad time but three of the traps set near the perimeter of the North Wing just went off, and cameras show there's a group of men trying to sneak onto the property."

Santana took no time in rolling over to the side, and Rachel crawled out of bed. Brittany had seen her in much worse than a pair of boxers and a sports bra, so she had no problem opening the door.

"Uh," Brittany paused, "two things. One, you might want to put on some clothes and come downstairs, and two, you have Santana all over your mouth."

"Do we know who they are yet?" she asked, wiping off her face with the back of her hand.

"All we can see is that they're connected to your father."

"Which one?"

Brittany winced. "The Russian one," she said.

Rachel frowned and saw a sheet-wrapped Santana get up and disappear into the bathroom with a handful of clothes. Rachel told Brittany to spread out the men and women that were already on the property. She didn't want anyone coming up from the guard house.

"And turn off the traps," she ordered.

"All of them?"

"No, just the ones by the North Wing. I want this on my terms, and I would be more comfortable if they were in the compound and not in the woods."

Brittany nodded and went off to do as she asked. She heard the shower running, figured Santana would meet her downstairs, and she went into her closet. Sighing, her first choice would be a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but her Papa always taught her to be better dressed than her enemies. She grabbed her blazer and slacks from the back of her closet, the part she rarely ventured into, and she double-checked that she had the right stuff before picking a black shirt off the hanger.

Suits were rarely her thing, having decided a long time ago that she would avoid them at all cost because they made her feel stuffy and uncomfortable, but she learned that sometimes they gave off an impression that she often had to convey. So, in the case of men trying to break into her house for reasons unknown, an all-black suit with a black shirt, no tie and a pair of black Oxfords should be enough to make a point to both her people and the strangers.

Rachel wasn't either of her fathers, but that didn't mean she didn't pick up some of their habits.

Plus, she was more concerned about the fact that no one should know about the compound outside of the people who live there and a select few in the Lima City Hall. So, the question becomes how the hell did they know about it? And also, why the hell were they trying to break inside?


	9. Chapter 9

Outside of the empty bottle of Jack sitting on the table, the room was as she'd left it almost a year ago. With whiskey in her system, Rachel was floating between the past and the present. As she stared out of the window, the setting sun casting a pinkish hue over her backyard, her mind was halfway across the world. Russia was her home, it was her first love, and her connections to it were symbolic at best. The ring on her hand, resting comfortably on her left middle finger, boasted the crest of the Krayevsky family; it symbolized loyalty and honor, a stark contrast to the mobsters, murderers, and thieves that bore the Krayevsky name. The picture hanging on the wall caught her eye, and she smiled, albeit with a hint of annoyance. The custom-made painting of a Royal Flush, the highest hand in most poker games, stood out in the stark white room. Her father thought it would be funny to display her one poker win for the whole world to see while simultaneously mocking her, teasing her, because she could never win another after that.

The nickname 'Ace' originated because she stole the card once the game was over. She still had it, tucked under her mattress and safe from the world. Everything else just fell in place. Sam, her King, always by her side and ready to fight with her should the need arise. Brittany, her Ten, always one step behind her and ready to catch her if she ever fell. And it'd always been the three of them, aware the Queen would join eventually, hopefully, but there was never an intent to add another to their group.

Until Noah.

Rachel never considered Noah a credible addition. He was just the son of her Papa's friend, and then she started to spend time with him, interact with him, and she concluded he was more than what the outside implied. So, her Royal Flush became something different, a hand guaranteed to win any game life threw her way, and Rachel felt confident that her Joker would add just the right amount of chaos and mischief.

Someone cleared their throat behind her.

Speaking of the Devil...

"Hello, Noah," she said, turning around.

Instead of answering, he picked up the bottle of Jack and looked at her. "Surely you didn't drink the rest of this at once?" he asked.

"Mind your business," she sighed. "I needed something to calm my nerves."

"Whiskey might keep you calm, but it also makes you lose all sense of control."

"You sound like my Godmother," she grumbled.

"Probably because we both have varying experiences with you and liquor," he pointed out. "Or need I remind you about homecoming?"

Rachel cocked an eyebrow and dismissed him with a wave. "That was nothing."

"Was it really?" he asked.

"Of course."

Noah looked around and stepped closer, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "That's bullshit, and you know it. You can't keep pretending like it didn't happen. It was a mistake, I know, but you can't avoid it forever. What we did-"

"Was a mistake, like you said, and that is the end of it," she snapped.

He stepped back when footsteps sounded around the corner, and Rachel turned to face their visitor, forcing a look of indifference on her face.

Sam walked in, glanced between the two of them, and he frowned.

"Um, did I interrupt something?" he asked.

Rachel shook her head and said, "No, you did not. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. We finished up with the others," Sam said slowly, still glancing back and forth between them, and he added, "The last guy is out in the park."

"What did you do to the others?" she asked.

"Brittany."

"Understood."

"Are you sure you two are alright?" Sam asked. "You guys are acting weird."

Rachel nodded, her traitorous mind playing games by replaying that night last homecoming, and she gritted out, "We are fine, but can you give us a second? We will meet you out there."

"If you're sure. I'll just double-check and make sure we're not expecting any more visitors."

The blonde left, and once Rachel was sure Sam wasn't hanging around the corner to eavesdrop, she grabbed Noah's tie and yanked him down to eye level.

"Do not ever bring that up again," she growled. "Ever. Not in front of anyone. Am I clear?"

He sighed and gave a short nod, saying, "You should still tell her. I don't think you should hide what we did from her."

"I'm not hiding what we did," she said, emphasizing the 'we.' "I'm hiding what I did."

Rachel pushed Noah back, giving him one last warning glare, and she walked off to the backyard where their intruder was waiting. Seconds later, Noah came up behind her, and the tension between them simmered to a manageable level.

* * *

The skate park wasn't the best place for what she wanted to do, but concrete was her best choice, and she didn't want to get blood on the patio.

Rachel walked down onto the flat part, her blazer with Sue, and she knelt in front of the stubborn Russian soldier, the only person to survive Brittany's unique brand of torture.

"Who are you?" he asked, his English better than most native speakers.

"Rachel," she answered in kind, pulling a blade from her pocket. "And you?"

"Anton, but you are not the person I wish to see. I will not talk to you," he spat.

"I do not care if you talk or not," she said, cutting off his binds. "All I care about is making sure you never talk again."

He jumped up once he was free, but Rachel didn't flinch. She remained calm even when he tackled her to the ground and wrapped his hands around her throat, and it only made Rachel roll her eyes. She kicked up with her knee, connecting with his groin. The purpose wasn't to dislodge him, but to stun him long enough for her to grab his wrists. Rachel pressed her thumbs on the bundle of nerves under his palm, and knew well enough the pain would grow the longer she held on. Eventually, the Russian cried out, and Rachel kicked up with her knee once more. That time, he fell to the side, and Rachel picked up her blade from the ground. She tossed it away.

The Russian recovered fairly quickly, which wasn't surprising, and he tried tackling Rachel once more, but she was prepared that time and wrapped her legs around his torso. She elbowed the back of his neck until his knees buckled, and she flipped off, kicking him in the back to propel herself forward. Thankfully, she didn't screw that move up and landed on her feet. It wasn't like she was showing off, per say, but the move might or might not have been for the girl watching from behind Noah.

Rachel turned and reached out her hand, thanking one of her men, Carter, she thought, as he passed her a metal bat.

"Will you at least answer my question? Only one," she called out, glancing to the side to see the soldier stumbling to his feet.

He removed his vest and his shirt, and Rachel stopped momentarily to balk at the amount of ink on his body. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and focused on the task at hand.

"You may ask, but I may not answer," he said.

"Why did you come to this house?"

"I am here for a job."

"What kind of job?"

No answer and she bit the inside of her cheek when he began to run towards her head-on. Rachel timed her swing perfectly. The bat connected with his stomach, and it made a sickening sound as his ribs broke from the impact. Anton fell down, one arm holding his stomach while the other kept him from hitting the ground.

"I would prefer it if you answered that before you lost your ability to breathe," she said dryly, swinging the bat again and snapping the elbow keeping him upright.

The soldier flopped to the ground, his bone protruding from his skin, and he panted, "Loyal'nost' v Bratstve." _(Loyalty in Brotherhood)_

Rachel cocked her head. That phrase was familiar.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"Loyal'nost' v Bratstve," he said again with more pride and less pain.

She put her foot on his chest, keeping him still, and she closed her eyes trying to remember where she'd heard that phrase before.

And then it hit her.

"Nayemnik," she whispered. _(Mercenary)_

The soldier smiled with bloody teeth and laughed. She was too caught off guard, too distracted by the realization a mercenary was lying in the middle of her skate park, and that meant Rachel was unprepared for when he grabbed hold of her leg and twisted. She yelped as she was knocked off balance, knowing if she didn't follow through with the movement she would fuck up her knee, and she landed hard on her back. Having the wind knocked out of her was not fun, and neither was having a two-hundred and thirty-five-pound man land on top of her.

He leaned down and hissed, "Tell me vhere Eva is or you die."

Rachel was still dazed from the fall, and his words or the first punch didn't register, but the second one did. She spat the blood from her busted lip at him and blocked the third punch with her forearm. Rachel arched all the way up before he could recover and as he fell backward, she went forward, and she lunged for the bat. But he snagged her foot, and Rachel kicked out with her free leg, scrambling to the side when she managed to connect with the side of his head.

His demand clicked in the depths of her brain, and she frowned.

How the hell did he know about 'Eva?'

"Skazhi mne, gde ona," he slurred slightly, wavering as he tried to stand. _(Tell me where she is)_

Rachel panted, and she figured she should probably take advantage of the fact he was wobbling side to side. She reached into her waistband and pulled out her gun, pulling the trigger three times: twice in the chest and once in the head. The shots echoed through the woods, Rachel never more thankful they lived so far away from anyone else, and she groaned.

"You almost got your ass beat, and you had a gun the whole time?!" Santana shouted.

"Shut up, Koroleva," she snapped, slowly climbing to her feet. She tested her left ankle, coming to a quick conclusion it was sprained, and limped her way to where the others were. Brittany helped her onto solid ground, and she dragged the blonde to the other side of the backyard.

After making sure no one could hear them, she whispered, "Brucialo. Solo," _(Burn him. Alone.)_

Brittany nodded sharply, walking off to do as asked, and Rachel waved over Sue, hobbling her way towards the patio for a bit of privacy and for a seat.

"What did he say to you?" Sue asked quietly. "Because what he said rattled you to the point you lost control of the situation."

"I was never in control," Rachel sighed, wincing as she stretched her back.

"What do you mean?"

"He was toying with me."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because it was a hired hit," Rachel said. "For me or, well, Eva."

Sue frowned. "How is that possible? You don't technically exist," she said.

"I thought that too. Thankfully, this one only knew the name and not the face, which is why he did not try harder to kill me."

"Was that supposed to be helpful?"

Rachel grimaced. "Sorry, but that was the bright side of my statement. The downside is that he knew where I lived," she said.

"Which means someone else does also, and that means we have a leak. No one outside of this town should know about you. Everyone that knows lives with you or lives in the town."

"This I know."

Sue sighed and looked at the group still huddled by the concrete pit, forcing Rachel to do the same. They both watched the people milling about in the backyard, some standing around smoking while others were laughing and talking, and Rachel clicked her tongue against her teeth in annoyance.

So much for a drama-free fall break.

* * *

Santana bit down on her tongue at the discoloration along Rachel's back. Her left ankle was wrapped tight but Sam's mother, Michelle, said it was a minor sprain that wouldn't require anything major. They were in Rachel's bedroom, and since they weren't alone, Santana couldn't say what she wanted with the others around. Brittany was lying on the bed next to Rachel, Sam was on the floor, and Puck was sprawled out in the chair near the bathroom. The door was closed and locked, and Sue was outside acting as a guard.

"You think there's a leak in the house?"

"It is a possibility not a definitive," Rachel said gruffly, fidgeting in one spot because Santana kept poking her side to keep her awake.

"And that guy was a mercenary?"

"Indeed."

"Why would someone be trying to kill you, or, rather, the other you?" Puck asked. "You're a ghost."

"Even ghosts get hunted," Rachel sighed.

"And this ghost is worth ten million dead or alive," Brittany said, holding up her phone. "My Mom just said a bounty popped up in her email. It's got your name, last known location, but no physical descriptions."

"Ten million?" Rachel exclaimed. "For what?!"

"The reason why isn't listed. Just that the person over the bounty wants it taken care of ASAP."

"I'm not even sure you're worth ten million," Sam pointed out.

"Gee, thanks, brother," Rachel said sarcastically.

"It's the truth!" he protested. "You barely have an email!"

"Eva barely has an email," she corrected.

"You are Eva!" Brittany, Sam, and Puck said simultaneously.

Rachel hid her face in her pillows, and Santana could feel the anger building. She tucked a stray hair behind Rachel's ear.

"Baby, what's really bothering you?" she said.

Rachel popped up and gave Santana a weird look. "Did you just call me baby?" she asked.

"Was that supposed to wait until after our dinner too?" Santana quipped.

Rachel shrugged and said, "I would have preferred to go over terms of endearment in private."

"Answer the question."

She sighed and pouted, but eventually said, "I grew up with these men and women. It hurts to entertain the idea one of them betrayed me."

"I understand that, so do Britt and Sam and Puck, but this is not the time for sentimentality. There is a person, or multiple persons, out there trying to kill you. You have to figure out who, why, and stop them before you end up in a plot next to your fathers."

"I do not want to do this," she confessed. "I want to enjoy my break and not worry that someone is feeding a bounty hunter information about me."

"I want my brother to not be buried in the Lima cemetery," Santana said.

"I want to see my Mom again," Puck added.

"I want to be in California and not the middle of fucking nowhere," Sam chimed in.

"I want to be the real me at school and not the ditzy blonde who follows Santana around like a lost puppy," Brittany muttered.

"You're more like a leech," Santana deadpanned.

"Bitch."

"Moving on," Rachel cut in quickly, flicking Santana on the nose when she stuck out her tongue at Brittany. "I got the point, but that does not make this any easier."

"It wasn't supposed too. We just wanted you to see that we all want something, but we can't always have what we want. You need to take care of this, the sooner, the better. For general reasons, because you have your whole life to live and I doubt your fathers would want you to die before you can achieve your dreams. For selfish reasons, because I just got you and I don't want to lose you."

Rachel hid her face back into the pillows and screamed out in frustration. Santana rubbed her back, mindful of the bruising, and kissed her on the shoulder.

"It'll be okay. You have a family that will protect you until the end, and I sure as hell won't go down without taking a few with me. We'll be with you every step of the way," she murmured.

"Damn right we will," Sam said.

"No way in hell you're doing this shit without me," Puck said.

"You already know where I stand," Brittany said.

Santana felt the muscles in Rachel's back relax and she smiled. Her girlfriend lifted her head and turned to look at her.

"I swear you're the worst girlfriend in the world," she sighed.

"Naturally. Now, get some rest. Tomorrow, we start hunting the ghost hunters."


	10. Chapter 10

**Mistakes are mine.**

* * *

 _Saturday: Day One of Fall Break_

Rachel saw some of the men staring hard at Santana, leering at the tank and shorts she had on, and leaned heavily into Noah's side. He adjusted to keep her upright but held his arms at his side, his left hand hidden at her lower back. She'd modified the 'game.' The flag was not in the clearing they were used too, hell, it wasn't even in the woods. It was in the front yard, in the middle of the driveway, with Sue, Sam's parents, and Micah guarding it very carefully.

The adults were proving to be very useful in weeding out the leak and the dead weight. Sue took care of the first twenty guards that morning, those older than Rachel by more than twenty-five years, and her godmother made sure the firing was as discreet as possible. Sue assured her there were no hard feelings. It wasn't like they wanted to work for Rachel anyway. The men were blatant in their disgust of having to follow Rachel or Eva, and Sue gladly allowed them to walk away.

And they did.

The group of twenty walked as far as the gates and were shot down where they stood, Sam's parents reminding Rachel exactly why they were once the best in their respective fields. By the time everyone gathered outside for the ManHunt, the bodies were disposed of, and evidence washed away under the guise of early morning gardening.

All in all, her break wasn't starting as bad as she thought it would.

"Puckerman," Sam called out. "Your people are Martin, Jones, Miller, Forrester, and Nevins!"

The guards stepped up and collected their vests, and Rachel moved to the other side so the teams could stand with their captains.

"Pierce, you have Reyes, Blackstone, Taylor, and Quincy!"

Rachel stared at that group, a small smile gracing her face. She really hoped none of them was the leak. They stepped up when she needed them the most. Rachel closed her eyes and shook away the thoughts, the memories, and re-focused on the teams.

"My team is Morris, Pryor, Lawrence, Harrison, and Gregorio!"

Rachel tied her hair into a ponytail, waiting for her team, but she already knew who was left. Sam and Brittany were adamant Williams go on another team, but Rachel needed to keep an eye on the Irish wildcard. She wasn't an idiot. She saw the way Williams stared at Santana, and though she knew her girlfriend could more than take care of herself, Rachel still didn't want there to be an instance where either one was on a different squad.

"Krayevksy, you have Lopez, Ulysses, Williams, Vasquez, and Inez," Sam finished.

"Why the hell is she participating again?"

Rachel sighed when Williams spoke, and she gritted out, "She is participating because she is my girlfriend and I want her to participate. If you have a problem with it, then go back to the guard house and wait for the game to finish. If not, then shut the fuck up about it."

"Oh, no, I plan on playing. But I hope Lopez can keep up. I don't plan on losing because her," Williams paused and glanced at Santana's chest, "assets get in the way. After all, that's the only reason she's still around, right?"

The comment sparked a visceral reaction in Santana, one that had Noah halfway across the patio, but her girlfriend waved him off. Rachel could already see her original idea was falling apart, and so she changed tactics.

"You know what? I think you've made an indirect point I cannot ignore. With that said, having Lopez on our team is completely ill-advised. I think having her on Team Pierce will make things a lot more interesting," she said.

"You do?" Williams asked warily, and then added, "Well, who's coming from Pierce's team to ours?"

"Pierce, of course." Rachel turned to her girlfriend, who had a fire burning in her eyes, and she knew that conversation would be a joy to have later on, and continued, "Team Pierce will now be Team Lopez."

"Are you serious?"

"What are you up too?"

Rachel ignored Brittany's question, and she answered Williams, "I am. They will switch teams."

"Fine then. Let's hope your friend doesn't take anything too personal. I play to win."

"I'm her girlfriend," Santana corrected, switching vests with Brittany. "And was that a threat?"

Williams snarled, her hand reaching for her gun, but Inez smacked it away, and instead, she spat, "It was a promise. You waltz in here and think you own the place. Sleeping in beds that you don't belong in and wearing clothes that aren't yours. You aren't special."

"Oh? You sound like you've been in this position before."

Rachel counted down from ten, trying to keep her temper in check, and she only heard the tail end of Williams's comment.

"Jealous?"

"Not at all," Santana said lazily, turning those darkened eyes on Rachel. "Not one bit."

Rachel didn't know what that look meant, but she was having contrasting physical reactions to it, and she was confused. Clapping her hands to stop what she was sure would end in bloodshed, she said, "You know the rules! Split up, make your plans, strategize, and all that. When you see the flare, then head on in. Remember, the flag is not in the same place as it was the last time, so do not think this will be easy. This year, the prize is worth more than anything I, or my father, have ever given you."

"What is it?" Jones shouted out.

Rachel grinned and said, "Trust me when I say you should do whatever it takes to win. Now, go to your starting points."

The groups, now motivated to win, ran off, laughing and trading ideas on what the prize could be, and Santana turned her back on Williams, which only seemed to piss her off more. Inez yanked on Williams, tugging her in the opposite direction, and Rachel froze when Santana glanced over her shoulder.

"This isn't over," she mouthed.

Rachel deflated, knowing precisely what that meant, and jumped when Brittany came up behind her.

"You should have told her you had a crazy ex that lives in the same compound," Brittany hissed in her ear.

"I never thought it would come up," Rachel hissed back. "What happened was a mistake, and I should have never gotten involved with her. I just wanted to move on. That was a bad time in my life that I did not want to relive."

"I understand that. I do, but you should have told San before now."

"I know, alright? But do you really think I wanted to have that conversation so soon in our relationship? We have yet to go on a date! What am I supposed to say, 'oh, by the way, I have a crazy ex who used to beat me for fun?"

Brittany patted Rachel on the shoulder, and said, "I'm sorry for bringing it up, but you know Santana isn't going to let this go."

Rachel groaned out loud, and Brittany snagged her by the elbow, stopping their walk. "You better not intervene," she warned.

"Why not?"

Brittany blinked and asked, "If Santana's ex-girlfriend called you out for being a temporary replacement, how would you react?"

Rachel thought about it and walked away from Brittany. She wasn't going to give the blonde the satisfaction of knowing she was right.

* * *

Santana sat down by the pool, her team equally as relaxed as she, and she looked at the former British spy sitting beside her.

"Who was that, Blackstone?" she asked. "The redhead."

"Alexandria Williams, Grade A psycho. And you can call me Stone," he said.

"How old is she?"

"Twenty-five."

"Just twenty-five?"

Stone laughed and said, "She had a hard life growing up, spent about five years in prison before Leroy found her wandering the streets in Dublin. He saved her, gave her a home, and she was his favorite out of the guards. Williams did no wrong in his eyes, and Leroy gave her special treatment."

"And how in the world did she end up in bed with Rac- your Boss?" she asked wearily.

"Boss was," Blackstone paused and pursed his lips, "Look after Hiram died, Boss was in a bad spot. She was fourteen when they moved here, and already familiar with pills. The pills were supposed to keep the pain at bay, and since Leroy was still traveling, Boss didn't have anyone monitoring her. No one knew until I found her outside face down in the pool. I managed to revive her, get her to the medical wing, but apparently, I wasn't the only one who saw her that night."

"Alexandria was new to the compound, but she was obsessed with Boss. She wanted to be close to Leroy, hated living in the guard house, and used Boss's instability to her advantage. But Williams ended up doing more harm than good," Taylor joined in, coming to sit next to Stone.

"Their relationship was nothing more than a toxic dealer/addict situation," Stone said.

Santana's heart broke at the analogy, and cleared her throat before she asked, "Why'd they break up?"

"We don't know," Taylor admitted. "But maybe Quince does."

Stone waved over Quincy and Reyes, and Santana repeated her question.

"Oh. Well, I don't know the specific moment, but Rachel started to change, started drinking less and threw out all her pills. Things came to a head at the last homecoming. Pierce and Evans came home first, then Puckerman and Boss. There was a huge argument, and the four of them disappeared upstairs. We don't know what happened, we never asked, but a couple of weeks later, Boss officially ended things with Williams. But Williams didn't take it well, and she…" Quincy trailed off, and Santana frowned.

"What?"

"Williams attacked Boss, bad, and had it not been for Reyes being an early riser, Williams would've done some major damage."

Santana twitched. Contrary to what Brittany liked to tease her about, Santana had good control of her temper. Except when it involved the people she loved and cared about, and Rachel was one of those people.

That homecoming story would come up later, but she would wait to ask after everything was said and done.

"You're shaking," Stone said, poking her side.

"I'm having a hard time not walking over there and snapping her neck," she growled.

"We would help," Taylor snorted. "In a heartbeat."

"You would?"

"Hell yeah! She almost broke Boss, in more ways than one," he said. "After that attack, most guards took Williams's side, and we're the only four that stayed with Rachel while she recovered in the medical wing. We, plus Pierce, Puckerman, and Evans monitored Boss's pill intake, and we never told Leroy about it because Boss asked us not too. We're just lucky it happened over winter break."

Santana scrunched her face. "I guess. Why are you guys so different?" she asked. "Most of the guards here either stare at my ass or call me a slut behind my back when they think I can't hear them. You all have been nice to me the entire morning, and free with information."

"Because Boss loves you, and you love Boss," Reyes said. "If you didn't, you wouldn't be asking all these questions."

"Long as you don't break her heart, we're good," Taylor said. "You aren't gonna hurt her, right?"

Santana shook her head. "I would die for her," she said.

"It's the truth."

"I can tell."

"To answer your question," Stone said, changing the subject. "The only guards I give two fucks about are sitting beside me and in front of me. Those other fuckers can rot in hell for all I care."

"Ditto," Taylor said. "I wouldn't die for the others even if Boss paid me, but for these idiots right here, I would."

"Yeah. Plus, Momma always told me to go with the guys that'll jump off a cliff with me. Means they're about as crazy as I am, and they're the ones to keep around," Reyes said with a shrug.

"Wasn't your mother arrested for impersonating a cop?" Quincy asked. "And then escaped by pretending to be a prison guard?"

Reyes shrugged. "She watched a lot of cop shows when I was younger."

"Criminal Minds?" Taylor guessed.

"Blue Bloods?" Quincy asked.

"SVU."

"Really?"

"She had a crush on Benson."

"Who didn't? She was hot," Stone said.

"What? Compared to Novak, Benson was like a seven," Reyes argued.

"Dude, no way. I'm gay as hell," Taylor said, "And even I can see that Benson was way hotter than Novak. Hell, the only person who came close to knocking Benson down a peg was Rollins."

"It was the southern accent, wasn't it?" Quincy asked. "That Georgia accent gets a lot of people."

"But you guys know who else was pretty hot?" Stone asked. "Alexandria."

The guys all agreed and started talking about their favorite episodes. Santana leaned over and rubbed her temples. Once upon a time, Puck was the only person who could give her a special kind of a migraine, but now she could add four people to that list.

"Can we get back on topic?" she interrupted, cutting them off before they could go any further.

"What was the topic?"

Santana groaned, and thankfully, a flare went off in the distance.

"Let's get this thing over with," she sighed, standing up.

The four stood up with her, but Reyes stopped her from moving forward.

"No way. If you're going to be with us, then you have to tell us your first TV or movie crush." He smiled cheekily and added, "Mine was Daniels from The Closer. That was a beautiful woman."

"Mine was J.J. from Criminal Minds. Damn, she was gorgeous, and the subject of many, many of my dreams," Stone said.

"Gross, dude," Taylor muttered, shaking his head. "But I can't say I wasn't the same way with Blair Underwood. If I ever got a chance to see him in person, mmph."

"I would have to say Raven from Teen Titans." Everyone looked at him strangely, and he shrugged. "I was twelve," he added.

Santana saw them all looking at her expectantly, and she snorted. "I'm a Potterhead. So, my first crush was-

"Emma Watson?" Stone guessed.

"Not quite," she said wryly. "I wasn't that type of child. My crush was, and still is, Helena Bonham Carter. Bellatrix Lestrange was my inspiration."

"That- honestly, you sound like Boss. Her favorite character was Voldemort."

"I can believe that."

The guys all laughed, and the group began to walk into the woods. Half of her wanted to warn them that the flag was in the front yard, but Rachel told them not to say anything, so she kept quiet. While they walked, Reyes and Quincy made inappropriate jokes, once again reminding her of Puck, and Stone whistled a tune she'd heard before, but couldn't place. Santana cocked an eyebrow when Taylor slowed down and draped his arm over her shoulder. He smiled down at her, showing off a diamond-encrusted grill, and playfully bumped their hips together.

"I think I like you, Lopez."

"You're not my type," she joked.

"And you're not mine," he said, winking.

* * *

Rachel was talking with Brittany, the two of them ditched their team a long time ago, and they were hovering around the flag. Sam and Noah came around the side of the house, and Rachel sighed. She was glad Santana remembered to stay with her team.

"You ready to call it?" Brittany asked.

"Go ahead."

Brittany motioned at Sue, and the older woman shot another flare into the air. It wouldn't take long for the other teams to see it, and follow it, and, unsurprisingly, Santana's team was the first out. They were laughing about something, Taylor carrying Santana on his back, and Rachel cocked an eyebrow at the interaction, but said nothing.

Worrying about Taylor would be like worrying about Noah.

The next team to come out was Noah's, then Sam's, and finally, Rachel's team stumbled out of the woods.

The groups stopped short of the flag, glancing between Rachel and each other, and her girlfriend jumped off Taylor's back. Santana walked right up to the flag and yanked it down.

"Congratulations, Lopez," Rachel said. "Your team wins the game."

"Wait, what?!" Martin shouted. "That's not fair!"

"Why not?" Rachel asked. "The rules were the first team to snag the flag would win the game, and Lopez grabbed the flag. No one told you guys to stop walking."

No had a rebuttal for that.

"What do we win?" Quincy asked.

"The prize," Rachel said, "is your life."

It took a second for that to click, but once it did, all hell broke loose. People started shouting, some pulled out their guns, and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Are you guys done yet?!" she shouted.

"You better have a damn good reason for this!" Nevins growled.

"I do not need a reason to clean my own damn house!" she snapped.

There was silence, and Rachel decided she didn't have any more energy for them. She was starting over, and she meant that literally. She glanced to the side to where she knew her sniper was hidden and gave the signal. Rachel blinked indifferently as the bodies fell like someone cut their strings, and she saw them all spinning around in a circle, looking for where the shots were coming from. Their actions only proved Rachel's point. It was clear the trajectory was coming from their left, and all they were doing was giving Rachel another reason why she needed new guards to have her back. If they couldn't even determine where the bullets were coming from, then how the hell could they ever keep her safe?

In their line of work, snipers were common, and at that moment, they seemed like amateurs. The sniper left Blackstone, Taylor, Quincy, and Reyes standing, and they were watching the scene with the same indifference as Rachel and the others.

When Gregorio fell, Williams was the only one from the marked group alive. She was furious, and practically foaming at the mouth.

"W'at the fuck is going on here?" her Irish brogue strong and vitriolic.

"I was going to kill you at first. Leave you as one of the bodies to clean up, but after what you said earlier, I changed my mind. I gave you the worst parts of me, and you turned me into an addict. You drugged me, beat me, and treated me like shit. It took a lot to recover, and I am still in recovery, from what you did. I almost died twice being with you, and Santana has saved me without even knowing it. I want her around because I love her, more than I ever loved you, and she brings me peace, not pain." Rachel felt tears pricking at her eyes and clicked her tongue against her teeth. "With that said, enjoy your last moments, Williams," she said.

"You won't kill me! You still love me!"

"You are right, Alexandria. I am not going to be the one that kills you."

Rachel walked off, motioning for the others to follow, and she left Williams out in the front yard with the one person who would gladly close that chapter of Rachel's life.

* * *

Warren Evans knew little about the youngest Lopez, but at that moment, as he climbed down from his perch with his rifle on his back, he knew without a doubt that the Williams chick stood no chance. Warren quickly ran through the trees toward the house.

He didn't want to be out there when things got started.


	11. Chapter 11

**Word of Warning, or a heads-up, if you will, but this chapter is one massive trigger warning. Please keep that in mind as you read it. Also, after this chapter, 'Rachel' will be no more. I will use 'Eva' instead. Hopefully, I explained that right. It would make my life, and yours, easier without me having to switch between the two.**

 **Short chapter, but only because I'm sick.**

 **Hopefully, there aren't too many mistakes.**

* * *

Santana reset her shoulder, and snatched a bag of ice off the counter, placing it on her jaw. She knew the bruising wouldn't go down before school started back and was already coming up with a story as to how she came to have a fist-sized imprint on her face. Santana shuffled into the main room and laid down on the couch with her head on Rachel's lap. Rachel ran her fingers through Santana's hair, scratching at her scalp, and she closed her eyes to rest.

Naturally, Santana let Williams get the first hit. She was a gentleman after all, but the second hit was a cheap shot that knocked her into the pole, dislocating her shoulder. It wasn't the first time she'd dislocated it, but that didn't make it hurt any less. So, with one arm, Santana bounced and dodged her way through the underground, fight club style that Williams used. It was a hit first, hit hard, and hit fast mindset, but Santana was the opposite. She blocked every punch when she could, biding her time, and when she found a good opening, Santana ducked and swiped at Williams's legs with a roundhouse kick. The redhead twisted to break her fall but couldn't quite keep her balance. Santana waited until she was upright, and then she punched the girl in the throat.

Words were exchanged, mostly curses by Williams at Santana, but it was all nonsense and incomprehensible as Williams was choking from the hit to the esophagus.

Santana wished she had use of both arms, but she made do with the one as she grabbed Williams by her hair. With every word, she slammed Williams's face into the pole.

"You. Will. Never. Touch. Her. Again."

Blood streaks stained the metal, and Santana dropped the dazed Irish-woman to the driveway. There was still a fight blazing in Williams's green eyes, even though one was swollen shut, and Santana felt that familiar red haze as it clouded her vision.

Her anger overwhelmed her.

She kept thinking about Rachel post-Hiram, the drug-addicted alcoholic on the verge of self-destruction. Then she imagined Puck never inviting her to the bar, never getting the chance to meet Rachel outside of school, and after crushing on Rachel for so long, Santana thought about what would have happened had she woke up one morning to the news of Rachel dead. The image of going to Rachel's funeral, even as nothing more than a former tormentor, flashed through her mind.

Santana fell to her knees, trying to catch her breath, and screamed out. The driveway was the unfortunate recipient of her anger, the concrete tearing into her knuckles after a few hits, and Santana not only appreciated the pain but needed it. Part of her thought the damage done to Williams was enough, knowing the guard was as good as dead, but the other part of her, the darker part, wanted to watch the life leave those disgustingly attractive green eyes. Making her choice, Santana climbed to her feet and stood over Williams.

She placed the tip of her boot against the side of Williams's head to keep it in place. She tapped an imaginary beat against the girl's skull, and she said coolly, "You know, I had no interest in this show of dominance because there was only one way it could've ended. I could see just by the way you carried yourself that you're a brute, depending on your anger and your rage, and it makes you sloppy. Not just that, but I would have won for the simple fact that I love Rachel, and I have no qualms about doing whatever it takes to keep her as not only my girlfriend but one day, my wife. And with that said," she trailed off and lifted her leg. "I hope you rot in the deepest parts of Hell."

Santana, after a few good stomps, scraped the bottom of her boot against the concrete. She remembered Stone tugging her away from the scene, gently pushing her into the arms of Puck. Comments were made, looks shared, but other than that, nothing.

"Baby?"

Santana opened her eyes and turned her head, looking up at Rachel.

"Hmm?"

"I said do I need to carry you?" she asked, a slight tease to her tone.

"Why would you need to carry me?"

Rachel snorted. "I thought you heard me ask if you wanted to go lie in bed for a bit."

"Oh." Santana sat up. "I can walk," she muttered, getting off the couch.

Rachel nodded, and the journey to Rachel's – their – bedroom was short, walked in silence, and Rachel laid down first. Santana was careful not to lie on her right shoulder and cuddled into Rachel's side as soon as she was comfortable. There was a moment, a brief pause, and Santana asked the question most prominent on her mind.

"What happened at homecoming last year?"

She felt the flinch.

"Who told you about that?" Rachel asked.

"It was mentioned in passing. Was I not supposed to know?"

Rachel shifted and kissed the top of Santana's head. "No, not yet," she confessed. "I wanted to wait as long as possible before we had the conversation."

"Why?"

"Derrick Hallows."

Santana stiffened, and unwanted memories flashed through her mind. "Who told you about him?" she asked tensely.

"No one," Rachel sighed. "Hallows had loose lips when he got a little liquor in his system. That Friday before the game, one of the drama students snuck in alcohol. The teacher had already left for the day, not caring what we did during the class, so we played a drinking game. One by one, they all passed out or became too drunk to do anything more than drool. Hallows and I were the last ones up, still playing, when he started bragging about a party he went to over the weekend."

"I still don't see what this has to do with me," she lied, pushing up with her good arm. "There's always a party in Lima."

"I saw the pictures, San," Rachel said.

Santana clenched her jaw, bringing her knees to her chest, and she knew better than to keep lying. Instead, she asked, "Who else knows about it?"

"All of us, to some extent, but Noah and I are the only ones who saw the pictures."

"Puck saw them?"

Rachel cocked her head, rubbing the back of her neck, "He saw the ones I let him see," she said.

"I didn't even have a drink that night," Santana blurted. "I was nursing the same glass of water because I knew I had to get up early the next morning. I don't even remember what he did, what he said, but the next thing I knew, I was upstairs with him. Everything was fuzzy, and I couldn't feel my head anymore. I recall bits and pieces, vaguely hearing his laughter when I tried to fight him off. The crazy part is how much I pretend my only experience was with that cheerleader, and some days, it's the only thing I believe. Unfortunately, I have my moments where I remember what Hallows did to me, and then I feel dirty, used. What's even worse is that I didn't know he took pictures until he started sending them to me randomly over the next couple of days, telling me that he had copies and if I told anyone he'd spread them around the school."

Santana heard Rachel get off the bed. Afraid that the other girl was leaving, she spun around but found that Rachel was only digging through a box next to her bed. She pulled out a manila folder, and handed it to Santana, crawling back on the mattress.

"What is this?" she asked.

Rachel frowned and played with the sleeves of her shirt. "I found them in Derrick's room. He had them- well, he had them printed out already. I stole his laptop and hard drive as well as the pictures. He," she paused, "eventually told me where they were the third time I asked. I am only giving these to you because they are not mine to dispose of. Plus, I think there are a few in there that I think you need to see."

"Doubt it," she muttered, opening the folder. "Why in the world would…I…want…" Santana trailed off as she dumped the contents onto her lap and felt the wind knocked from her chest. Several 8x10 copies of her lying on a bed, in various stages of undress, looked up at her. She stared down at them, tears prickling the corner of her eyes, and she sighed.

"Why are you showing me these?" she asked, her voice cracking.

Rachel leaned forward and placed her chin on Santana's shoulder. "Keep looking," she said.

Santana swiped at her face, carefully flipping through them when she came to a couple that didn't belong. She picked one up and found that Rachel had added a few that weren't pictures of Santana.

"I-is this Derrick?" she stammered.

"Yes," Rachel answered. "I cannot give you the details, as that night was a little fuzzy for me. You see, my drinking did not end at the school. I drank so much that day I had a hangover for two days afterward. Had it not been for Noah, and by some extent Brittany and Sam, who knows how that night would have ended. I assume you recall that Noah got benched for skipping the homecoming game without a heads-up or a good enough reason?"

Santana nodded, and Rachel continued, "He was with me that night. Derrick stayed home, claiming that football games were some form of patriarchal bullshit or something like that, and so I invited myself and Noah over with the belief we were continuing our game. Derrick let us in, his parents off in China somewhere, and most of his neighbors were at the game, so no one saw us go into the house."

"What did you do to him?"

Her girlfriend grimaced and said, "In short, I killed him. Once he was dead, Noah helped me bury him out in the woods."

"You killed him because of what he did to me?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

Santana stayed silent. She felt conflicted. "I'm not sure what you want me to say," she admitted. "This is a lot to take in at the moment."

Rachel climbed off the bed, a distant look in her eyes, and she said, "I know. I, um, have no expectations of you after this, honestly. Today has been a day of buried secrets coming to light, and I know you need time to work through it all. However, I need to make something clear. I will not apologize for what I did. I would do it again. Every time."

Santana watched her girlfriend walk out of the door. Despite her brain telling her to run after Rachel and tell her nothing had changed between them, her legs were like cement and she remained on the bed.

Plus, it would have been a lie. Something did change.

Santana just didn't know what.

* * *

Rachel sat at the bar in her basement, swirling her finger over the rim of an empty glass with a bottle of unopened Evan Williams resting on the counter. She sighed and was too lost in her thoughts to hear the footsteps coming down the stairs.

"I do believe you are the first person I have seen to drink Evan Williams."

Rachel jumped and spun around. She found Stone reclined against the wall, and he pointed at the unopened bottle on the counter.

"In my opinion, Crown Royal tastes way better."

Gordon Blackstone was a hard man to read, but even she could see the shadows bouncing in his eyes as he pushed off the wall; they were the same shadows Rachel saw when she looked in the mirror.

"For the record," he said, sitting down beside her. "The more you fight it, the harder it gets, Boss."

"Eva," she corrected. "I think in this instance, Eva would be appropriate."

"Not Rachel?"

She shook her head. "Rachel is not the one with the drinking problem," she said.

"You do realize Eva and Rachel is the same person, right?"

"In a way, yes, but Rachel's demons wear too short cheerleading uniforms and carry cups of sugary ice. Eva's demons come in droves, all with Russian accents, echoing bullets, and too many nights in the medical wing from an Irish woman's mood swing."

Stone snorted and moved the bottle to the far end of the bar. "Bullshit," he said, "your demons are one in the same, you're just unwilling to see that."

"How so?"

"Rachel is Eva and vice versa. You keep them separated like it truly makes a difference, but it doesn't. When you wake up in the morning, you may be used to putting on Rachel's clothes, Rachel's hairstyle, and Rachel's attitude, but Eva is the one who keeps you going. Eva is the one sitting down here in this bar with a million voices telling her to drain that bottle and grab another. Eva is the one wishing her fathers were still alive for various reasons, and Eva is the one fighting a losing battle with herself. You can't run from her anymore because you'll be running for the rest of your life."

"I can't let go of her," she whispered.

"Which one?"

"Rachel. She's who I am."

"Is she?" he asked. "Or are you holding on to her because it's easy?"

She tightened her grip on the glass, and she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Stone patted her on the shoulder and snatched the cup from her with a sad smile. He placed it in the sink and leaned down so that they were eye to eye.

"Your lives are no longer interchangeable, not after the last few days. You either live out your life as Rachel, future Broadway superstar with a superb singing voice, or you accept Eva, the person you are on the inside. Because sooner or later, you will lose one, and you better hope it's the one you can live without."

Stone waited around, making sure his words stuck, and then he vanished back up the stairs. She glanced back at the mirror hanging over the bar, seeing the girl looking back at her, and the answer came to her like a bucket of ice poured over her head.

I am who I am, she thought. And who I am is not who I have been.


	12. Chapter 12

**There might be a trigger word or two in here, so be mindful when reading. Other than that, mistakes are mine.**

* * *

Santana spent one night, one fucking night, at her house, and the damn Brady Brunch came back to school looking like- like- something she couldn't think of at the moment, but she'll figure it out later. Santana pursed her lips, closing her locker, and she waited for them to come to her. In the time it took for them to walk down the hall, Santana noted the differences. For one, Sam looked like he spent his break partying in Ibiza. Long black leather pants, a white linen shirt opened at the collar with a black scarf wrapped around his neck, and a pair of boots. Of course, he could've left it there, but naturally, Sam had to take it to another level and had a bit of stubble growing on his chin.

Then there was Puck. The bane of her existence, but also the closest thing left to a brother she had, looked normal. Except she knew Puck, and she knew that the subtle way he walked behind Eva, glancing side to side, meant that he was taking his new role as bodyguard seriously. There was also the fact he had on a damn suit with actual loafers. Loafers!

Guess there was something in his closet other than combat boots and t-shirts.

Santana didn't bother studying Brittany, knowing her best friend had a penchant for wearing things that were close to indecent and held no doubt the long-sleeved shirt, ripped jeans and sneakers were tame for what Brittany usually wore.

It was her girlfriend, however, that held the attention of everyone in the school. Eva dyed her hair black, which, technically, was her natural hair color, but it looked good on her. Of course, it might've been because Eva had on a suit that was tailored to fit her perfectly.

Hell, her girlfriend just looked like walking sex.

Her thoughts turned down a different path, and she blushed when Eva gave her a knowing smile, backing her into the locker when she got close enough to do so.

"Koroleva," she greeted.

"My love." Santana pouted, sighing a little, and added, "I missed you last night."

She cocked an eyebrow, and said, "Are you not the one who needed time?"

Santana hummed. "This is true, but I was overreacting. It took one night, one night away from you and your cover-stealing ways that I realized what you did for me was no different than what I did for you not even forty-eight hours ago. Williams was your Hallows. Plus, you defended me while simultaneously saving another girl from the same fate. You closed that chapter of my life, and while I know I will have my moments in the future, I know that having you around will quiet the voices and the memories."

"Are you sure? Because I explicitly remember telling you that once I have you, I do not plan on letting you go."

Santana brushed her thumb across Eva's bottom lip and smiled sweetly. "The thing is now that I have my thoughts in order, and I've all but concluded I am madly in love with you, all aspects of you, I'm not going anywhere. Least not until our third period," she said, draping her arms over her shoulders.

There was a sudden silence in the hall, and Santana caught a purple blur in her peripheral. She pushed Eva, who went stumbling back into Brittany which forced Puck to catch them both before they fell, and Sam wasn't able to pull her forward. Santana hissed in pain as ice hit the side of her face and head, and the second one hit the middle of her chest. The coldness leaked through her clothing and beneath her skin, and she swiped at the liquid before it got into her eyes.

Santana saw Brittany grabbing at Eva's waist, keeping her in place, and Sam couldn't decide between helping Brittany or helping Santana.

So, she made his choice easy for him.

Taking off her shirt and tossing it at Puck, Santana easily found her targets. Two unknown football players, but familiar enough that she knew they were at least juniors, stood in front of her with empty cups, wide eyes and false bravado. Those were her favorite guys to break. She smiled brightly, using one hand to wipe at the excess slushy, and even with half her face purple, Santana approached them with confidence.

"Were you aiming for me?" she asked.

The taller one answered, "So what if we were, you dick-hating bitch."

Santana narrowed her eyes at the taller one but focused her energy on the short one. "I only ask because, well, you see," she stopped and reared back her arm, "purple isn't my color," she said.

The sound of his nose cracking from her punch was even better when coupled with the sound of another fist connecting with his friend's jaw. Giving Sam a quick smile of gratitude, she watched the two crumple to the ground, groaning in pain, and Santana, still standing shirtless in the hall, sat on her heels. Seeing a pair of boots keeping the taller one in place, Santana reached forward, grabbed hold of the already broken nose of the shorter player, and twisted sharply to the left. He cried out in pain, and she squeezed, paying no mind to the blood trickling over her fingers.

"Who gave you the order to slushy me?" she asked.

"Q-Quinn," he said nasally.

"That's what I thought, but I feel as if I should inform you of a few little-known facts. One being that Quinn Fabray does not make the rules around here. She's pretty, sure, I get that, and when she bats those lovely green eyes in your direction, you want to do whatever she asks of you. But here's your second tidbit, Quinn is all talk, and her bark is worse than her bite. Me? Well, let's just say you don't want to test me any further than you already have. Your final fact check is simple. I'm the real head bitch of this school, and if you or any of your half-minded, imbecilic teammates come for my family or me again, you'll be six feet under by Christmas." Santana gave his nose one final tug, and she added, "Now grunt if you understand."

The player whimpered, which she accepted, and Santana slapped his cheek a few times, smearing his blood along his face.

"Good boy. Now run along and get your nose reset. You'll probably have a hard time smelling for the next few years, but considering I could've ripped it off, well…" she trailed off as she stood, "find yourself lucky I'm in a good mood."

He scrambled off the floor, sprinting towards the nurse's office, and Santana cringed at the liquid on her fingers. The taller one called her a bitch, again, and her head snapped to his. Waving off Puck, Santana glanced to the side at her girlfriend, being held by both Brittany and Sam, and she turned her attention back to the boy standing way too close for comfort. Knowing an intimidation tactic when she saw one, Santana cocked her head and sighed.

"I know this town is small, conservative, and homophobic with a dash of racist, and yes, I am Hispanic and lesbian, but dick-hating? That's a stretch," she said, pursing her lips. "Because the last I checked, I don't hate dick. I just prefer it when it's fake and attached to my girlfriend."

Several people in the crowd snickered, and the jock's face turned an ugly shade of red, but there was a look in his eyes that Santana had seen once already, and it made her sick to her stomach.

"You're crazy as fuck, but I like them crazy. How about you spread those legs for me and I can show you what a real dick feels like?" he said, leering at her chest.

Santana, seeing Brittany and Sam finally release Eva, fake-gagged, and said, "You're not my type. At all. Plus, I know for a fact my girlfriend can fuck me better with a plastic toy than you ever could with that limp string bean in your pants."

More laughter and the jock was about to say something but Santana cut him off with another punch, the second one in the stomach. He grunted, leaning over, and wheezed something under his breath. She scowled down at him, wishing she could have her way with him, but she could feel the anger radiating from Eva.

"You should've kept your mouth shut," Santana said. "Because if you think I'm crazy," she turned and walked off, "then you're going to think my girlfriend is downright psychotic."

By the time she got to the end of the hall, Santana had realized she'd been followed. Recognizing the footsteps, she slowed down just enough for Brittany to catch up with her.

"Quinn's going to be pissed," the blonde said, matching Santana stride for stride.

"I'm well aware."

There was a pause, and Santana stopped their progress. She squeezed Brittany's arm, hoping her next statement wouldn't go over the wrong way, and she said, "I've missed you."

The blonde bowed her head and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm well aware," she teased. "Now come on. I doubt the male population can handle seeing you like that all day."

Santana rolled her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulders, and said, "I'm wearing a crop-top, not a bra. They act as if they've never seen boobs before."

"It's Lima, San," Brittany sighed, pulling her towards the locker room. "The only boobs most of them have seen are the ones that require a credit card."

* * *

Eva poked at the green and brown glob on her plate, trying to figure out how they could pass that off as meatloaf, and eventually gave up, pushing the mess to the middle of the table. Sam and Brittany long gave up on their food, nursing their chips from the vending machine, and Noah was too busy working on his history homework to notice no one else at the table was eating.

The only person missing, surprisingly enough, was Santana.

"Are you sure she was in class earlier?" she asked Brittany. Again.

"Yep."

Eva hummed and looked around, trying to spot her girlfriend, when she was hit with a strong, familiar scent. She froze, her head spinning and her eyes wide, and she stood up from her seat. In her peripheral, Eva recognized the hidden smiles on her family's face, realizing they knew where Santana was all along, and she tried to calm her beating heart.

That smell…Eva sat back down slowly and closed her eyes.

 _"Good morning, angel."_

 _"Hi, Papa!"_

 _A younger Eva climbed on top of a kitchen chair, her hair down to her lower back, and she smiled toothily. A bowl of her favorite soup appeared in front of her, and she clapped excitedly._

 _"Shee-shee!" she exclaimed._

 _Her papa chuckled, and ruffled her hair, sitting in the seat opposite of her. "Shchi, angel, not shee-_ shee _," he corrected._

 _"Das what I said!" she huffed, picking up her spoon._

 _"Of course," he said. "My apologies, malyshka."_

 _"S'ok, Papa. I still love you!'_

 _Her papa bent down and kissed her forehead, and the memory faded back into the depths of her mind._

She opened her eyes, coming face-to-face with a worried Santana, and Eva quickly wiped at her cheeks.

"H-hey, baby," she greeted.

"Are you okay? I've been calling your name for the last two minutes."

"Yes, I just," she stopped and shook her head, "Sorry. Lost myself in my head for a second. I thought I, um, smelled, something, but it was probably nothing."

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Santana said slowly, glancing down at the table.

Eva followed her gaze, and she stared down at the steaming bowl of cabbage soup. She couldn't form any words, just a bunch of sounds, and Santana's leg bounced beside her.

"I didn't know that you would react so strongly to it," she said, not bothering to hide her disappointment. "I asked Sue what was one of your favorite foods a couple of days ago to surprise you at lunch today, but if you don't like it-

Eva cut her off with a kiss, and pulled back just enough to whisper, "You're so cute."

Santana blushed red, causing Eva to snicker, and she kissed her again, uncaring about the fact they were in the middle of the cafeteria. Someone elbowed her in the side, and Eva reluctantly broke their kiss, tugging on Santana's bottom lip with her teeth as she did so. Santana whined at the loss, and Eva nearly said fuck it, two seconds away from pulling Santana on her lap and giving the cafeteria a proper introduction to their relationship. Instead, she pushed those thoughts from her mind, and picked up her spoon.

"Okay, so what is that? Santana wouldn't tell us what she'd cooked," Sam said, leaning forward.

Eva flicked him in the nose, gesturing for him to back up, and she said, "It's pronounced Shchi or cabbage soup."

"It's just cabbage?" Noah asked, finally finished with his homework.

"Um," Eva glanced at Santana, "is it just cabbage?" she asked sheepishly.

Santana snorted and leaned her elbow on the table, putting her chin in the palm of her hand. "No, it's potatoes, carrots, celery, and onions with some sour cream on top. I put tomatoes in the first batch, but I didn't like the way it tasted, so I took them out," she said.

"You made this last night?" Brittany asked.

"Pretty much."

"Are you making special requests? Because I haven't had a good Swedish meatball in ages," Sam said.

"Is that your way of asking me to make them?"

"…yes."

Half-listening to the conversation around her, Eva was in heaven or something close to it. She was back home, back with her papa, and she couldn't help but smile each time she ate some of her soup. Santana's hand found hers under the table, and the warmth spreading through her body didn't come from the soup. Instead, it came from knowing that she had someone who loved her enough to go out of their way to make her feel at home.

Lips pressed against the outer shell of her ear, and Santana said softly, "I love you, Ace."

Eva turned slightly, and her breath caught in her throat. The amount of love and sincerity in Santana's eyes scared her in all the right ways. The noise of the cafeteria faded into white noise, nothing else registering but the slight crinkle in Santana's face as she grinned, and the sound of her heart beating in her ears.

Not even Noah, Brittany, and Sam finishing off her soup.

Not even Quinn's heated glare that burned into the back of her head.

Not even the hushed whispers that came from the Glee table.

Eva knew without a doubt that the love she felt for Santana was destined by something other than pure happenstance. Despite the threat looming over all of their lives, an unknown enemy making moves behind the scene, Eva was falling hard.

"I love you too, Koroleva," she said.

* * *

The group was restless, bombarding Eva with various questions, but she wasn't paying them any mind. It was expected. The only person not amused was Artie, and she was preparing for the wires to connect. Or she would've been if he was in the room.

"God, you're so dramatic! Just tell us what you're up too!"

Eva ignored Kurt, and leaned into Sam, yawning.

"Come on, we all know you're pretending. There's no way you're a dyke?"

Well, that got her attention.

Eva scowled at Finn and said, "Don't ever call me that again. Ever. And for the record, I've been a lesbian since I was thirteen."

"Bullshit! What about all those times you were flirting with me!"

"Never in my life have I flirted with a guy, let alone a poor excuse of a man-child who thinks he's God's gift to women," she spat.

Finn jumped up at the insult, but Noah was the first to push him back down in his seat. Eva sighed and kicked Noah in the back of his leg, motioning for him to sit down. The last thing she needed was for him to go to jail for murder.

The door swung open, breaking the stare-off between Noah and Finn, and Mike came in with Artie.

"I swear I've seen those bikes before," Artie said to Mike.

"Yeah, me too. I've seen that symbol on TV or something. That red snake wrapped around the skull with the bloody fangs, that's something I shouldn't forget, but I can't remember where it's from," Mike replied, oblivious to the tension in the room.

The body under Eva stiffened the same time she did, and Eva slowly lifted her head.

"You saw these bikes today?" she asked Mike.

He did a double-take, frowning in confusion, but he said, "Yeah. There's a bunch parked over at the gas station across the street."

Eva stood up, her hands shaking, and she filtered through the bike gangs her father warned her about over the last few years.

Red snake

Skulls

Fangs

"Shit!" she cursed, running a hand through her hair.

Sam came up behind her. "Eva, we got to get you out of here," he hissed.

"They'll know that'll be our first move," she hissed back. "And I refuse to lead them anywhere else."

"What are you two talking about?" Artie asked, narrowing his eyes at Eva.

She gave him a warning look, and he grudgingly kept his mouth closed.

"Those bikers," Sam said slowly. "They call themselves Blood Serpents."

"Yeah!" Mike exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "That's what they're called! Blood…" he trailed off, and his bag dropped to the ground with a thud. "Why would the Blood Serpents be at the school? In Ohio?" he asked hoarsely.

"Because they've come to collect their prize," Eva said, chewing on her bottom lip. "And they won't stop until they have it."

"Who are these serpents and what prize are they trying to collect? Here? In the middle of fucking nowhere?" Kurt asked, still miffed at her dismissal of him.

Eva threw her head back with a humorless laugh, and said, "Blood serpents are glorified head-hunters, both literally and figuratively. They get paid to find a face, and then they remove the face from the bones with explicit instructions on how to deliver their souvenir. In this instance, I imagine the face they're looking for is in this school, maybe even in this room, or they've stopped for directions. Either way, their presence here is not something to take lightly."

"Then why the hell are we still sitting around?" Mercedes asked, trying to pack up her stuff so she could go. "We need to get out of here!"

"You won't make it to the parking lot," Eva said coolly. "They'll gut you in the halls and use your blood as war paint."

"How do you know all of this?" Quinn asked, finally making her presence known.

"I read," Eva lied.

"Where the fuck can you read this kind of information?!" Kurt screeched.

"On the internet! Now, shut up and let me think!" Eva snapped.

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Fucking bounty," she muttered under her breath.

The door opened again, causing some of the Glee members to scream, and Sue shot them dirty glares before she looked at Eva.

"I assume you already know?" she asked.

Eva nodded.

"Alright. What do you need? I can't call for help because, well, you know," Sue said.

"I know." Eva motioned at the door and said, "Lock it. Whoever's not in here is shit out of luck."

"Wait, what about Tina!" Mike shouted. "She's in the bathroom cleaning gunk out of her hair because someone," he glared at Quinn, "poured slushy over her before PE."

"Seriously?" she gritted out.

At his nod, Eva clicked her tongue against her teeth and stomped down the stairs. She yanked open the door, and whispered in Brittany's ear, "If any of them tries anything, answer in any way you see fit."

Her Ten smiled. "As you wish, Boss," she said cheekily.

Eva left the room with Sam and Noah, and she knew precisely what bathroom Tina was using.

"What do we do if we run into them before we get back?" Noah asked.

Eva sighed heavily. "Then we run like hell."


	13. Chapter 13

Finn didn't let it go. He ranted, raved, accused, and blamed Santana for tainting his future girlfriend. There were so many things wrong with his comments that most of the club, including Quinn, felt uncomfortable with the accusations. Santana, however, stayed in her seat and ignored him for the most part. Certain statements got under her skin, but Santana learned a long time ago to breathe through her anger to stay calm.

Unfortunately, Finn always knew how to twist the knife a little deeper.

"Look, just tell us what you're up too. There's no way you actually care about someone other than yourself. You're a slut, and all you focus on is who your next fuck will be. You're vain, self-centered, and care more about how you look than anything else. I mean, that's why you got the boob job, right?"

Santana looked up slowly while other Glee members gasped and murmured under the breath. The boob job was for her safety and her sanity, not for any of the multitude of reasons the rest of the school created in their sick and twisted minds. After a few tense minutes, Santana changed her mind and turned her gaze to the floor. The neon yellow elephant created by Finn stomped and ran around the room, trying to steal the attention of anyone it could, but people were steadfast in their avoidance. Brittany came up and sat beside her, rubbing small circles on her lower back. It was the one trick that relaxed her, keeping herself from getting lost in the anger.

"Finn, I think you should sit down," Kurt said. "You're acting like a jerk. As much as it pains me to say this, their relationship is none of our business. I think this time we should stay out of it."

"No! It's not fair! Rachel is supposed to be mine and this- this- this BITCH took her from me!"

Santana twitched and said, "Eva."

"What?"

"Eva," she repeated louder. "Her name is Eva, not Rachel."

"Since when?" Finn scoffed.

"I'm not sure if you know this or not, but most people get their names the day they're born," Santana said, pausing, and then she added, "Well, normal people. I'm sure you were hatched in some laboratory somewhere. They probably picked your name out of a hat."

Finn growled. "See? That's what I mean! There's no way someone like Rachel could ever be interested in you!"

"Her. Name. Is. Eva!" she snapped, standing up. "I will not tell you again!"

"Or what? Huh? You gonna beat me up like you did that guy earlier?" he mocked, folding his arms. "I'd like to see you try. I'm bigger, stronger, and I hit back!"

Santana smiled at the threat, thinking of the many ways she could punish Finn for everything he'd said. She replied, "Look, I was planning on pretending your stupid ass didn't exist for the rest of the day, hell, the rest of the year, but you are tap-dancing on thin ice and close to spending the rest of your life in a hospital bed."

"I'm only saying what everyone else is thinking! You don't care about her!"

Santana's temper flared, and she snapped, "And you do?! You treat her like a damn prize when she is so much more than that! I'm not with her because I like her or because I'm trying to show people I've changed! I'm with her because I love her, and I treasure every moment I have with her. She's one of the most amazing people I've ever met, and she's honestly the best damn part of this fucking town. I'm in love with her. The I want to marry her and have a bunch of crazy kids running around our house kind of love! The type of love that makes me sick at night when we're not together and the kind that gives me butterflies when I think about it. Honestly, I shouldn't even be defending myself to you or anyone else in this fucking club. None of you actually care about Eva! I hear what you say about her behind her back. You treated her like shit but got the nerve to sit here and be upset because she and I are dating. What gives you the right to act that way when none of you realizes she-

Santana stopped, grinding her teeth when her brain finally caught up with her emotions, and she took a deep breath.

"Finn, this is your last chance to sit down and shut up. Because if you say another word, the janitorial staff will have to scrape the remnants of that limp string bean you call a dick off the walls. And to everyone else, if anyone, and I mean anyone, says another damn thing to me about Eva, I will cut out your tongues and stuff 'em down your throats," she said, finally sitting back down.

"You-

"Enough, dude," Mike said sharply. "Let it go."

Finn clenched his fists at his sides, wanting to say something else, but he sat down in his chair. The two exchanged long looks, a million words passing between them, and Santana knew it wasn't over. Finn wouldn't give up on Eva, and neither would Santana.

"San, stop," Brittany whispered in her ear. "You're shaking."

"I'm fine."

Brittany sighed and went back to rubbing circles on Santana's back. There was silence up until the door opened, and Tina came in dressed in a pair of gym shorts and a tank.

"Tina!" Mike shouted, rushing forward.

The couple shared a hug and kissed, and Mike asked her if she was alright.

"Um, yeah," she said, glancing curiously around the room. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, what happened out there?" he asked. "Where's Sam and the others?"

"What do you mean?" she said, confused. "I just got back from the bathroom. I didn't see Sam or anyone other than the janitor."

"Wait, what? What about the bikers?"

Tina made a face. "Why would you care about a bunch of bikers. They're just hanging around outside in the parking lot, smoking and looking at a map. Some of them are spread out on the ground and playing cards," she said.

"Wait, you saw them?" Mercedes asked.

"Yeah?" she said slowly. "Talked to them too. They asked me if I knew where the nearest motel was, and explained they got lost on their way to visit a friend."

"I'm so confused," Kurt muttered.

"Where's Sam and Puck? And Eva?" Mike asked.

"I don't-wait, who's Eva?" Tina replied.

"Um, Rachel," Kurt said hesitantly. "But she doesn't go by that name anymore."

"Oh. I seriously came straight here after I finished washing up."

"Alright, so does anyone know what the hell is going on here?" Artie sighed.

"Should we go look for the others?" Quinn asked, finally making her presence known.

"Doubt it. Maybe they just went home."

"But Santana and Brittany are still here," Mercedes pointed out.

"And that means what? Clearly, we're being left out of the loop about something," Kurt responded.

"Well, what about you, Coach?" Quinn said.

"I'm only here because of the bikers," Sue said slowly. "I thought they were a threat, but it seems like we're all wrong. I have no idea what's going on by any stretch of my imagination."

Kurt, Mercedes, and Artie started throwing out theories, but it was Mike who caught everyone's attention.

"Hey, look, I think maybe we should cancel practice today," he said. "It doesn't seem like Mr. Schue is coming, and I think there's been way too much drama for us to do any type of performance."

Tina looked amused for a second, but Santana thought she imagined it with how quickly it appeared and disappeared. She crossed her legs, studying the girl cuddled into Mike. Santana knew she was lying, but she didn't know why.

"You know what, you're right," Kurt said.

"Yeah. Maybe tomorrow we can get some actual answers, but there's no need in sticking around today," Mercedes grumbled.

"So, we're on the same page?" Mike asked. "No practice today?"

Everyone nodded, and Tina whispered something in Mike's ear. Her boyfriend shrugged and told her he'd meet her at their locker. One by one, the other members left, and Quinn looked at Santana for a long time. Something swirled in the depths of those green eyes, and Santana could tell another phone call would be on the horizon. Quinn eventually walked out, leaving Sue, Tina, Santana, and Brittany alone in the room.

It took about three seconds for Tina to break, and she plopped down on the piano bench with a sigh.

"Eva, Sam, and Puck are outside with the bikers."

"Why?" Santana asked.

"Can't tell you," Tina said, shrugging, "But I can tell you they're safer out there than they would be in here."

"You saw them? The three of them?" Brittany asked.

"Saw them, spoke with them, and even traded information with Eva. I promise you it's not what you think."

"You seem mighty comfortable calling her Eva when you've known her as Rachel for so long," Sue pointed out.

Tina shrugged. "I can't fault her for using an alias when I've used one as well," she said.

"Are you using one now?"

Tina smirked at Brittany's question and tapped the side of her nose with a wink. "Sometimes it's best not to know these things, Pierce, but if you ever need new documents, names, or ways out of the country without getting caught, hit me up."

"You're a coyote?" Santana asked, shocked.

Tina stood up, opened the door, seemingly thinking of a way to respond, but instead of giving a direct answer, she said, "Eh, that's one name for what I do, sure."

The other girl gave a mini-wave and left the room, purposely keeping the door open. Santana looked at Brittany, who looked at Sue, and the three of them wondered just how many kids at McKinley lived double lives.

* * *

Eva lounged on the bike, her arms dangling over the handlebars, and she kept her hood up as the Glee members trickled out of the building. Most of them glanced her way, but the bandana, jacket, and hood made it hard for them to recognize her. Sam and Noah were on the ground, playing poker with a few guys, but they were dressed similarly to Eva. Once Mike and Tina finally strolled out, Tina nodding at the group, Eva allowed herself to relax. A surprise visit from her Uncle was always fun, but she wished he warned her of his new running mates. Blood Serpents terrified her, and she'd been afraid they were there to kill her, but once she saw the former Navy SEAL stalking through the halls, she immediately scolded him for scaring her.

Her Uncle, Xavier, always had a mean streak, but it was more mischievous than malicious and left her embarrassed more often than not. He was the original third musketeer before Leroy married her Papa, but he disappeared shortly after the wedding. Sue told her that Xavier and Leroy didn't get along, and out of respect for the marriage, decided to stay in the shadows. That didn't mean Eva didn't see him. It just meant when she did see him, Leroy, and Hiram was missing his best friend. Xavier popped in and out, and they would spend time together. He taught her how to skateboard, how to swim, and even how to ride a bike.

When Leroy wasn't around, Xavier was Eva's third father, and she was glad to see him.

The Glee cars pulled out of the lot, some loitering for a moment before pulling away, and Eva sat up straight when her Uncle sauntered over. His hair was graying but in a silver fox kind of way. His blue eyes seemed brighter than usual, and she sighed, knowing he was up to no good.

"Alright, Ace. Tell me about this firecracker you're supposedly dating now."

Eva cocked an eyebrow. "There is no supposedly. I am dating someone, and how do you know about her?" she said.

"Sue told me a few days ago, maybe last Thursday, and said you were seeing a girl. She mentioned I would have to ask you in person, so, voila, here I am."

"You rode all the way from Washington to ask me about my girlfriend?"

Xavier snorted. "No. I drove from Washington because someone put a bounty on my baby girl's head, and I'll be damned if I let her fight this on her own without her Uncle X by her side," he said.

Eva's heart fluttered at the old nickname. "I've missed you, X."

"Don't go gettin' all sappy on me now, Ace. I'm not the sentimental type," he teased.

"Of course not," she said wryly.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doin'," he said. "Tell me about this Santana chick."

Eva turned when the doors to the school opened, and the topic of conversation walked out with Brittany and Sue. "I can spend hours telling you about her," she said distractedly, frowning at the look on her girlfriend's face. She removed the hood when she realized Santana was looking for her, and her girlfriend quickly made her way over, burying her face in Eva's neck.

"You okay, baby?" she asked, rubbing Santana's back.

Santana growled and straightened, throwing her hands in the air as she ranted. "It took every bit of my restraint not to slam his face into the door a few times. I should've sliced his dick into little tiny pieces and fed it to him bit by bit! He's a self-righteous asshole who thinks he's God's gift to women everywhere. I don't even know where he got the idea that you and he were meant to be together."

Eva blinked, searching for anything to say to that, but came up short. It didn't matter as Santana was not finished.

"Finn is the dumbest, rudest, stupidest motherfucker I've ever had the displeasure of meeting and I look forward to the day I can stick my heels so far up his ass my stiletto gets caught in his intestines. If he so much as looks at you the wrong way tomorrow, I'm putting a letter opener through his eyes and running his fluffy ass over with a lawnmower."

"Other than that, good day?" Noah quipped.

"Peachy."

When Sue finally recognized Xavier, the two exchanged greetings, and Eva pulled her girlfriend close, kissing the side of her head.

"We headed back to the compound?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. I was thinking pizza for dinner?" Eva said.

She got nods from mostly everyone, and Eva told Sam to order ten pepperoni pizzas, ten cheese pizzas, and eight veggie pizzas.

"That should be enough for the others too, right?" she asked.

"Yeah. Reyes is a vegetarian, so I'm sure he'll appreciate the veggie option," Noah said.

Eva got off her Uncle's bike and decided they might as well split up. "Noah, you, Sam, and Sue go back to the compound with the bikers. They can rest in the old guard house. Me, X, San, and Britt can go pick up the food," she said. "And make sure you aren't followed. I don't want the Glee members getting a little too nosey."

"Got it."

Noah, Sam, and Sue went to their respective cars while the bikers loaded up. There were about twelve in total, and Eva was suddenly glad she had space for them all. While they all got ready to leave, Eva looked down at Santana and saw that her girlfriend was lost in her head.

"We can always cut the brake lines from his truck," she whispered.

"You're so violent," Santana groaned.

"Says the girl that threatened to chop off his dick."

"I want him maimed not dead."

"Same thing."

"I'm dating a psychopath."

"You love me," Eva said cheekily.

Santana grinned and nipped Eva's earlobe. "I do. Very much," she said softly.

Eva bounced for a little, and said, "So about the brake lines-

"No," Santana interrupted. "We're not cutting his brake lines."

"But why?" she whined.

"Because if anything happens to him, they'll suspect you or me, and I don't want you going to prison. I'm not ready to be a jail wife."

"Wife huh?" Eva teased.

"Well, duh. I'm not interested in anything less."

Eva stole a kiss, and it was only when her Uncle started clearing his throat did they break apart. She glanced at him, irritated he broke their kiss short, and he had his hands on his hips.

"Don't give me that look! You two were startin' to make these weird sounds," he said defensively.

"He's right," Brittany said. "You two sounded like you were getting a little carried away."

"Well, I have dreamed about having sex at the school," Eva mused. "I guess the parking lot counts."

Santana snorted and smacked her in the stomach. "Maybe next week. My period started today," she said. There was a pause. "Babe, my tummy hurts."

Eva rolled her eyes and led Santana to the sole remaining car in the lot. She turned and said to her Uncle, "Just follow us, yeah?"

"Naturally."

"Smart ass."

"Dumb ass," he shot back playfully.

Eva winked and tossed Brittany her keys. Santana then got in the back seat, and Eva climbed in after her. "I'm going to stay back here with her Majesty and rub her stomach," she said.

"We should probably stop by the store too. She gets cranky if she doesn't have her peppermint ice cream," Brittany said, heading towards the main street.

"I do not!" Santana shouted.

"Yes, you do," Brittany said. "There have been too many nights of listening to you bitch and whine about your ice cream for you to lie there and deny it."

"First of all, I don't bitch and whine. Second of all, how dare you!"

Eva listened to the two of them go back and forth and smiled to herself. Even when it seemed like her world was falling apart, it seemed like it was also putting itself back together again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry, you guys, depression came over and hasn't left me alone the last few days, but I haven't forgotten about the story.**

 **Mistakes are mine.**

* * *

Xavier stretched out on Sue's bed, their intimacy allowing for the closeness with no requirements for anything other than comfort, and he told her about his group of Serpents.

"The group I'm with," he started, "are the rejects that nobody wanted. They're fathers, grandfathers, brothers, and all-around good guys that got caught up in the wrong thing. It was my chance to do something good after doing so much bad. We do random shit like protect women from abusive husbands, save children from neglectful parents, or provide bodyguard duty for certain criminal lords that want to have dinner with their families without worrying about someone sniping them over the apple pie and ice cream. We're just doing what we can to survive."

"How did you, of all people, get involved with this gang?"

"I don't really know, but I have a feeling Russell had something to do with it. Can't prove it though, don't really care enough anymore to try and get out, but yeah, Russell Fabray definitely had something to do with it."

Sue started to choke, and X waited for her to catch her breath, confused.

"Did you say Russell Fabray?" she wheezed.

"I take it you know him?" he asked wryly.

"Know him?!" Sue leaned back, incredulous, and she added, "He lives here, X!"

"Here? In Lima?"

Sue narrowed her eyes. "Are you telling me you didn't know that?"

"I swear to you I didn't! Had I known I would've put the fucker in the ground the moment I crossed the town line! He deserves to rot in hell for what he did to me!"

"Okay, wait, start over," she said. "How do you know him?"

"That bible-thumping, homophobic asshole used to be my lawyer! With the right price, he made sure I walked on a lot of things I probably should've gone to jail for, but the one thing I didn't do, the easiest case he ever had, ended up being the case that got me locked up. Apparently, someone offered Russell a lot of money to have me put away, and they shipped me off to Rikers. I was there for nine years before he contacted me. And do you know what he said to me? He said he'd get me out if I paid fifty-thousand dollars. My dumbass gave it to him, and the moment I'm out, I get picked up by the Blood Serpents where I was 'inducted' into their club."

"When you say inducted…"

"They beat my ass with a baseball bat and steel-toed boots," he deadpanned.

Sue winced.

"Exactly." Xavier sighed and ran a hand over his face before he continued, "I lost everything while I was with the Serpents. I'm thousands of miles away when I get a phone call from an old friend who tells me my house in Tallahassee burned to the ground with my family inside. My wife, my daughter, and my mother-in-law, all dead. It took everything in me not to ride out there and see for myself, but I saw the pictures, and I saw the bodies. I cried for days, and then one of the Serpents dragged me on a drug run, and I took my anger out on a pair of cartel members stupid enough to piss me off."

"You had a family?"

"Yeah, I did. I was waiting until my daughter was a little older before I flew her out to meet you guys. She was sick, struggling with her kidneys, and my wife and I didn't want to take any risks."

"Wife, huh? Finally got someone to say yes?"

"Not quite," he said, laughing. "She proposed to me. I was apparently the only guy crazy enough to put up with her. She was my rock, ya know?"

"What was her name?"

"Liz. Never Elizabeth, never Beth, and never Lizzy, always Liz," he said. "Her mom was getting older, nearly seventy, and we decided that keeping her close would also help with keeping Quinn connected to her family."

"Your daughter's name was Quinn?" Sue asked, a weird look on her face.

"Yup, Lucy Quinn Rivera." He saw the look on her face and added, "Why?"

Sue cleared her throat and shook her head. "No reason. It's just…Russell's second daughter has the same name, minus the Rivera part," she said.

Xavier raised his eyebrow and frowned. "Second daughter? That's not possible," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Russell told me, in a rare moment of vulnerability, that Judy had to get a hysterectomy after she gave birth to Fanny or Franny or whatever the fuck that child's name was. And Russell didn't believe in adopting, said it was against the will of God or something like that," he said.

"I mean, I want to believe you, but they have two daughters. They've had two girls ever since they moved here. Fanny, which is her name, and their youngest, Lucy but everyone calls her Quinn."

Xavier's frown deepened. "Well, do you have a picture? Maybe Russell changed his mind about adoption or whatever," he said, not willing to think about the alternative.

His best friend warily reached over to her nightstand, picking up her phone, and she clicked through her phone. In the back of his mind, Xavier was trying to keep his emotions in check, but his hope grew to a point he could barely breathe. When Sue showed him a picture of a group of students in a gym, all making various poses and wearing cheer uniforms, and his eyes focused on the blonde in front, the girl Sue pointed out to him. She zoomed in on the image, and his heart skipped so many beats he was afraid it was no longer beating.

Xavier covered his mouth with his hand to keep a broken sob from escaping.

Those eyes. He remembered those same hazel eyes staring up at him as he waded through the pool with her in his arms or when he was wiping icing away from puffed out cheeks. He remembered the same hazel every night when he lied down in bed, brushing hair out of his wife's face just to see the love shining back at him.

"My Angel," he whispered, referring to the old nickname he gave Quinn when she was born.

Sue shook his shoulders. "X? Come on, you can't possibly think Russell kidnapped your daughter and kept her as his. That's insane! Why would he do that?" she asked.

"I don't know, but I know a way we can prove it," he said softly. "But if that is my Quinn, then I will not hesitate to get her back by any means necessary. With or without your help."

Sue bowed her head and said, "In this instance, I have no choice. I love Quinn, but she's had a hard life, and if I can get her out of the house, then I will do what I can. However," she paused and grimaced, "you may need to wake the kids. There are a few things you need to know before we do this."

Xavier saw the look in his best friend's eyes, and he listened intently as Sue recounted all the things Quinn was responsible for at the local high school. His stomach lurched with each statement, and the idea of waking Eva sounded like a great idea.

It would appear this his daughter was the sole terror of his goddaughter and the bane of every student's existence.

He was having a hard time juggling his disappointment with his satisfaction.

* * *

Santana and Brittany sat beside the pool, their feet in the water, and Sam and Puck were on the opposite side.

"Dude…she's going to freak," Puck sighed.

"She's going to be on the warpath," Sam muttered.

"Especially if not he's wrong," Puck said.

"He's not wrong," Santana said.

"What? What makes you say that?" Sam said.

"I gave Quinn blood a year ago after she collapsed in the locker room. It was just the two of us, one of our late-night captain meetings, but Dad wouldn't tell me what was wrong. All he said was that I was the only one who matched. It didn't take much to figure out that neither of her parents, nor her sister, were blood matches for her, and that meant something I wasn't ready to examine too closely."

There was silence, only the wind blowing through the trees in the distance, when Brittany asked, "What do we do if we get irrefutable proof that Quinn is Xavier's daughter?"

"What we always do," Sam said. "We adjust."

* * *

While the quartet sat by the pool, one soul remained awake in the house. In the comfort of a soundproofed room, Eva pounded away at the dummy in her gym, letting all the anger out of her system. She had to stop when her vision became too blurry to continue.

All the hate she felt for Quinn, all the rage once directed towards the blonde faded away and was replaced by a strong sense of guilt and sympathy.

For all intents and purposes, they were family. Lucy Quinn Fabray, or rather, Lucy Quinn Rivera was a child stolen from her home and raised surrounded by vitriolic rhetoric and conservative bullshit. Discovering she had a dead mother, a father who truly loved her, and an entire life lived based on a lie was going to shatter her world, and Eva knew that. She wanted nothing more than to keep the secret intact, but the pure heartbreak in her godfather's voice made it close to impossible to ignore.

"FUCK!" she shouted, hitting the torso of the dummy so hard it toppled over.

She closed her eyes, releasing her breath, and she dropped down to the floor. It wasn't fair. There were too many secrets coming to light, too many faces blurring together because they all wanted the same thing, and there were too many threats around the corner.

But there were answers she needed, answers like why Russell kidnapped Quinn, to begin with, and why he raised her as his with the risk that one day he could run into Xavier.

It was foolish, but Eva couldn't judge the decision until she knew the intent.

* * *

Santana bowed thankfully to Sue as she entered the locker room, empty sans one lone cheerleader. Quinn always took a shower during free period, and Santana never asked why, but it was a routine that went unbroken for most of their time in high school. Santana locked the door, exhaling softly, and she placed her head on the wood. Eva was unaware of her plans, and Santana hoped Brittany kept her end of the bargain by keeping Eva busy and distracted while she confronted Quinn about more than her sketchy birth. In the background, as the shower ran, Santana weighed the pros and cons of destroying the careful, safe life Quinn built over the years.

Caught up in her thoughts, Santana didn't hear the shower stop, and she jumped when Quinn called her name.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked, keeping her towel wrapped protectively around her chest.

It was a defensive move, one Santana was all too familiar with, but she wasn't there to cause Quinn pain. At least not directly.

"I need to tell you something."

Quinn shuffled over to her locker, pulling out her clothes, and she dropped the towel, forcing Santana to look at the ceiling. "Okay," she said. "So, talk."

"It's not that easy."

"Why isn't it?"

"Telling someone their parents aren't their parents might not go over so well," she said blankly.

Quinn snorted, pulling her pants up, and she said, "If you're talking about me, then I already know the Fabrays' aren't my parents."

"Look, I know it sounds ridicu- wait, did you just say you know?" Santana asked, confused.

"I did, and I know you know as well. And don't bother pretending. Your father told me he told you the truth, and you're smart enough to have figured it out on your own," she said, "but yes, I already know. I'm sure you remember when I collapsed?"

Santana nodded slowly, unsure as to where the conversation was going.

"While you were in the waiting room, your father revealed that my blood wasn't compatible with either of my parents. He informed me, in secret, that you were the closest match, and told me that if I wanted to live, I would have to suck it up and accept your help. I put two and two together, and I made my peace. I haven't confronted them about it."

Santana blinked, working through the entire statement, and she stammered, "W-why didn't you tell me you knew?"

"Because I wanted to see if you would mention it first."

"No, you wanted to see if I would tell the school," Santana said.

"That too."

Santana sat down on the bench, leaning forward on her knees, and asked, "And how do you feel about it?"

"I don't feel anything. I am curious, however, as to why you're mentioning it now?"

"Um, that's complicated."

"Does it have anything to do with your girlfriend?"

Santana nodded.

"Oh God, she's not my sister, is she?" Quinn exclaimed.

"No," Santana said. "Why is that the first thing you think of?"

"Seemed the most crazy in my head. And good because that would be a shit ton of apologizing to do."

"Well, I didn't say you two weren't family," Santana corrected.

Quinn groaned, pulled her hoodie over her head, and said, "Fuck. Is she a flower girl?"

"A what?"

"I wanna give her 'I'm Sorry' flowers, but not if she's allergic."

Santana was thrown by the entire conversation, Quinn noticed, and the blonde started laughing.

"You seem confused. Were you expecting me to-

"Have a conniption? Yes."

Quinn shrugged. "Why? I already knew I wasn't a Fabray, and if I think too hard on it, I'll fall apart. Who wants to discover they've lived their whole life a lie? Plus, there are memories I have with strangers that aren't Russell or Judy, memories I've kept hidden and buried in my thoughts."

"Are you willing to hear the truth?"

"It depends on what it's going to cost me."

"You should worry more on what you're going to gain from it."

"Which is?"

Santana looked up, giving her a shrug of her own, and said, "Freedom. A family that actually loves you for you. And the choice to live the life you truly want to live."

Quinn closed her locker and leaned against it, folding her arms. "Fine. What do you need me to do?" she asked softly.


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry about the mistakes.**

* * *

Wednesday morning, Quinn stalked down the hall with the intent of finding and starting over with the girl she was sort-of related too. Santana's ambush led to the two of them driving to the hospital where Santana's father performed a DNA test using an unknown sample for comparison. No questions asked and there were no accusations thrown, but there were a few moments where it felt like Santana knew more about her life than she did. Her once upon a time best friend was tight-lipped about who the sample belonged too, telling Quinn her answers would come after there was no denying the identity of the father.

When Antonio came back a few hours later – with results that said more than words ever could – Santana's face twisted into something close to a grimace, but there was a brief flicker of happiness that gave Quinn a sense of relief.

She knew more things were going on in the background and could see the Lopez's were afraid of giving too much away, but with every passing second, Quinn could see Santana was waiting for the explosion that wouldn't come. She was angry, sure, but it wasn't Santana's fault nor was it Antonio's. It was Russell's. Quinn immediately reassured them, making sure they understood that she wasn't upset with them, and because of the craziness of it all, Quinn started to laugh. It was hysterical, and she collapsed into Santana's arms afterward. Russell and Judy were horrible parents, and her sister was a bitch in every sense of the word. Quinn always felt out of place in her family, and she overcompensated for the disconnection by torturing those who were happy.

People like Eva.

It was there at the hospital, in the midst of her emotional breakdown, that Quinn remembered what Santana said, about her being semi-related to Eva, and she blubbered her way through an apology to the girlfriend of the girl she'd tortured for all those years. After apologizing for what she did to Eva, she then cried even harder as she asked for forgiveness from the girl who used to be her best friend. All in all, it was a mess. Santana ended up calling Brittany, and the two half-carried, half-dragged Quinn to Santana's house where they ended up spending the night watching movies and talking.

They concluded that even though it would be a while before they could fully trust one another, mainly Quinn, they were willing to give it another try.

Of course, there was still the small issue of making amends with Eva, hence why Quinn was on a mission to find the girl before school. Santana promised that Eva would be in the choir room, and Quinn knew that would be the best time to approach her. As she closed the door behind her, she silently noted Eva and Rachel weren't all that different from one another as the girl sang under her breath, and she smiled nervously when Eva turned on the bench.

All her practiced words went out the window when the other girl started to speak.

"If you're here to apologize, don't."

"I- what? Why?"

"Because I don't need one. You're a bitch, but so am I, and so is Santana. You played the hand you were given, and that's the end of it. Honestly, what you can do for me right now is be upfront with me. I heard what happened at the hospital, so I know that sooner or later you're going to feel angry. Your childhood was ruined, and you grew up surrounded by people who hate any and everything they can't understand. If that were me, I would be highly upset," Eva said, turning back around. "I don't want your apologies. I want you to show me your dark side, Quinn because that is the only thing you will get from me."

Quinn was left reeling after the conversation. Not even sure when she started walking again nor how she got to her locker without slamming into a wall. She was, however, well aware when Santana and Brittany came up to her and started poking her in the side.

"You're out of uniform," Brittany pointed out.

"I am."

"Why?"

"I left the team."

"Does Sue know?"

"Um, sort of. I put my uniform in front of the office this morning with a note that says I'm sorry."

"First, you terrorize her goddaughter, and then you quit the team with a note and no warning?" Santana asked, shaking her head. "You're on a roll, huh?"

Quinn frowned, hurt at the comment, and she said, "I'm trying."

"I know. I didn't mean anything by it," Santana said, smiling, "but your efforts are appreciated. I think quitting the team was a good idea. It was something your sister wanted for you."

"Yeah, plus, I have a backup plan."

"Really? I thought that was more of a hobby?"

Brittany glanced between the two, confused, and she said, "Wait, what are you talking about?"

Quinn blushed. "I also asked if Coach Sue could speak to the art teacher on my behalf. Hopefully, Ms. James can squeeze me into that last spot in the honor society before Christmas break."

"Art?" Brittany repeated, her eyes widening. "You can draw?"

Santana barked out a laugh, causing Quinn to blush deeper, and she said, "Draw? She's a fucking savant with a brush. Of course, when your family thinks art is of the Devil, can't really do much with it."

"Wow. That's amazing, Q!" Brittany gushed.

"Thanks," she murmured. "Can we change the subject?"

"Did you apologize to Eva yet?"

"She told me to keep my apology to myself and let out my dark side, more or less," Quinn said wryly.

Santana hummed. "That sounds about right. I wouldn't worry about her. You shouldn't take anything she says to heart-" she paused, "actually, take everything she says to heart."

Quinn smiled, but something was bothering her. "Why are you two being nice to me after everything?" she asked.

"Didn't we go over this last night?" Santana said. "We're adjusting. It's something all of us have had to do for a few years now, and this is nothing new."

"I just-

"Take our kindness for what it is, Q," Brittany interrupted. "Because we don't hate you. I mean, we don't know who you are beyond Quinn Fabray, but we can see that Quinn Rivera needs someone in her corner. Why not us?"

"Plus, Eva told us to give you a second chance, and if she thinks you're worth the time, then you're worth the time," Santana said. "My girlfriend has a soft spot for you."

Quinn made a face. "Really? Why?"

Santana never answered, and Quinn filed that under things she couldn't know yet. The crowds in the hall were starting to build, and it was apparent some kids had noticed the 'Unholy Trinity' out of uniform. Whispers grew, and Brittany draped her arm over Quinn's shoulder.

"You ready to join the slushy brigade?" she asked.

"I don't even know what that means."

"It means you're going to taste firsthand the torture you've inflicted on these people," Santana said. "The jocks don't report to you, me, or San, and I have a feeling the person in charge now is going to take advantage of the situation."

"Oh," Quinn said solemnly. "I guess I should start bringing a change of clothes?"

"Next time you see Eva, ask her about it," Santana quipped. "She's an expert on the matter."

Quinn elbowed Santana in the stomach at the comment, and the three walked down the hall to meet up with Puck. Quinn wanted to ask where Sam and Eva were, but she figured that wasn't any of her business.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the trio, four sets of eyes watched the interaction curiously. They couldn't hear what was said, but they each had smiles on their faces for various reasons. Sue was happy that the three were getting along for Eva and Xavier's sake. Sam was glad that Quinn would be able to find her way without the interference of her parents, or at least, she will once they put things into motion. He knew she wasn't a horrible person, just a good person tainted by a bad environment. Xavier, who was dressed as inconspicuous as a six-three, heavily tattooed man surrounded by teenagers could be, wore a smile because he was watching his daughter in her element, unbidden by sickness and pain. Eva, however, wasn't smiling for any reason other than the fact she had her knight.

Her Dark Knight, if she could be so bold.

Quinn's dark streak could be vicious, almost as vicious as Santana, but it was the type of ruthlessness she would need in the very near future. Christmas break was almost upon them, and Eva had some ideas on how to bring her bounty hunter out into the open.

But first, she needed to tap into the anger Quinn was feeling. And she knew how, and when, to do it.

* * *

Eva counted down to the second Mr. Schue would get called to the front office, and once the door closed, she put her plan into action.

"Do you trust me?" she whispered to her girlfriend.

"I hate when you ask me shit like that. It makes me think you're about to do something stupid."

"Was that a yes?"

Santana rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat. "It was you better be sure about whatever the fuck you're about to do," she said.

Eva kissed her on the corner of the mouth and got up from her seat. She slowly walked down the aisle, making sure she had everyone's attention, and when she stepped in front of Quinn, the blonde looked confused and wary about what she was about to do.

With good reason.

In hindsight, the sucker-punch sounded, and looked, far worse than what it was. Quinn's head barely snapped to the side, and she rose to her feet. Though Eva saw the hit coming, she was unprepared for the amount of force behind it and stumbled down to the floor.

Maybe Quinn was holding on to a lot more anger than she initially believed.

"What the FUCK is wrong with you?!" Quinn seethed, stepping down to hover over her.

Eva ignored the outburst, yawning to make sure her jaw wasn't broken, and then kicked out her leg, knocking Quinn off balance and into the chairs behind her. Eva jumped up and straddled Quinn's waist, raining down half-hearted punches and slaps to the girl's face until strong legs wrapped around her hips and flipped her over. Eva's head bounced a bit on the tile and she was too disoriented to dodge the first few hits. She'd already bitten through her tongue, and blood pooled in her mouth.

When she looked up, Eva saw what she wanted in Quinn's eyes, and blocked the last hit. She gave a swift uppercut to dislodge Quinn and flipped to her feet. The blonde scrambled forward, but Eva had no intentions of continuing the fight. She stepped into the would-be tackle and spun Quinn into a chokehold with her arms straight in the air. The position allowed Eva to be able to whisper into Quinn's ear, and give them both a chance to calm down.

"Hey, breathe, Rivera," she whispered. "I need you to breathe."

"That would be a lot easier if you weren't choking me," Quinn spat.

"If I let you go, are you going to hit me again?" she asked.

Quinn grunted out a no, and Eva released her grip. The two, once they were sure there weren't going to be any more hits, hunched over in pain. Eva's head was spinning, and she was sure the amount of blood dripping down her chin looked concerning.

"Okay, so is anyone going to ask or are we just going to sit here and pretend that didn't just happen?" Kurt said.

"I saw a girl getting well-needed revenge on her former tormentor," Artie, said, surprising the hell out of Eva.

"Same here," Tina replied. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

While the rest of the club started arguing over what happened, Eva exhaled through her nose and held out her hand. Quinn grabbed it, and she pulled her into the hallway.

"I'm sorry. I was trying to prove a point," Eva apologized.

"What point required you sucker-punching me in the middle of Glee?" Quinn hissed.

"I thought it was a good idea at the time to catch you off guard."

"And how'd that work out for you?" she snapped.

Eva winced and rubbed her jaw. "It may have gone a little askew, but I saw what I wanted to see."

"Which was?" Quinn asked, putting her hands on her hip.

"I need you to come to my house after school. Have Santana bring you," she said.

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "Why not Brittany?" she asked. "Or Puck, or Sam, or just giving me your address so I can drive myself?"

"I just think you two deserve time together," Eva lied.

"More like you're afraid Santana's going to read you the riot act after the stunt you pulled in there."

Eva pretended not to hear her and started walking to her godmother's office.

Quinn was a lot more dangerous than she believed, and she had the bruises to prove it. Hopefully, her godmother, and godfather wouldn't be too upset with her. Looking back at Quinn, seeing the already bruised skin starting to rise, Eva grimaced and sighed inwardly.

She was in so much trouble.


	16. Chapter 16

**Short chapter, but consider this the end of "Part 1."**

 **Mistakes are mine.**

* * *

Eva laid on the bed, ice on her cheek, and she heard the garage door opening and closing. She listened to the multitude of voices filtering into her room from downstairs and willed her body into an upright position. Several minutes passed before she managed to regain her sense of equilibrium, but by that time Santana was crawling on the bed and pulling her into an embrace. She tucked her nose into the crook of Santana's neck, and greedily inhaled the cocoa butter-vanilla scent that surrounded her girlfriend nearly every day. It made her wish they were lying in front of a fireplace in a cabin somewhere, snow-covered mountains in the distance with half-empty mugs of hot chocolate left forgotten in the background while they enjoyed the peace.

The light in the room dimmed, and Eva mentally thanked whoever it was that closed the curtains she'd been too disoriented to close on her own. Soft skin cupped her uninjured cheek, directing her gaze upward, and Santana waited until Eva's eyes were focused on hers.

"I'll yell at you later, but for now, get some rest. You took a big hit to your head. You need to rest."

Eva opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Though she guessed that had more to do with the finger resting over her lips, and the slow headshake of her girlfriend that kept her quiet.

"Close your eyes. I'm not going anywhere."

Doing as told, Eva didn't bother fighting off the fog rolling through her mind nor the exhaustion pulsing through her veins, uncaring about anything other than the girl wrapped around her.

* * *

Brittany poked her head in on Eva and Santana and smiled at the sight that greeted her. Santana was wide-awake, leaning against the headboard, and Brittany could see her mind was miles away. She cleared her throat softly, making sure had Santana's attention, and gestured to the sleeping Eva.

"How is she?" she asked.

"I shouldn't have let her go home alone. Something told me to follow her, catch her before she left the lot, but I talked myself out of it once Quinn came back. She took a big hit to the side of her head, and she bounced off the floor a little. I nudge her now and then, just to make sure she's getting better and not worse, but other than that, she's fine."

Britany frowned. "Did she tell you why she-

"Attacked someone with mixed-martial arts training?" Santana guessed. At her nod, she continued, "I assume she had a plan for Quinn and figured the best way to get her answer would be to catch the girl off guard. Of course, had I known that was her plan, I would've easily and immediately informed her that the plan would not go the way she anticipated."

"She took down a guy twice her size," Brittany pointed out.

"Barely," Santana deadpanned. "I'd like to remind you that she twisted her ankle and took a hit to the ribs in the process. Our dear Ace can hold her own when necessary, but she's not the best fighter in the compound. That title, should she decide to stick around, would go to Quinn."

Brittany conceded to that fact and admitted Eva had a penchant for biting off more than she could chew when it came to the physical battles. She leaned against the doorframe.

"Okay, so what's the plan now?" she asked.

"No idea. I'm keeping her up here until I'm sure she can stand without losing consciousness."

"Ah, I figured as much. The others wanted to check on her, but I assured them you were more than capable of taking care of her."

Santana sniffed, clearly insulted at the insinuation, and said, "I will send her down when she's cognizant enough to know what day it is, and I'm sure she doesn't have any memory loss."

Brittany grinned at the protective nature of her best friend and pushed off the frame. "Alright. I'll tell them to let you do your thing, and we'll see you guys whenever you come down," she said.

Santana didn't respond and went back to running her fingers through Eva's scalp. Brittany closed the door behind her and rolled her eyes when she saw Sam and Puck hovering just out of sight.

"Seriously? How long have you been standing there?" she asked wryly.

"Long enough to know that Eva's asleep and not hospital bound," Sam said, shrugging.

"Unhuh. Well, she's fine. Santana knows what she's doing."

"I don't doubt that, but that's not why I'm worried," Puck said. "I'm thinking more of Eva's physical health once the concussion wears off. Santana's gonna lay into her for that stunt she pulled and for leaving us with the mess to clean up."

Brittany tapped the side of her nose and said, "That's not our business."

Sam and Puck snickered, and the three of them went back downstairs where the rest of the group waited for news on Eva.

* * *

Eva was awake. Her eyes were closed, but she could hear everything going on around her. Santana was singing under her breath, a song Eva had never heard before, but eventually, the singing stopped and the fingers running through her scalp paused.

"Faking sleep now, are we?"

Eva sighed and opened her eyes slowly. "I'm feigning sleep out of self-preservation," she said.

"Because you know that stunt you pulled today was stupid, insane, and had you not been smart enough to grab her in a chokehold at the end, you would've gotten more than a concussion."

"Baby-

"No!" Santana hissed, cutting her off. "You don't get to talk your way out of this. You will lie there and listen to what I have to say because you have this idiotic belief you're untouchable because of how you were raised."

Eva blinked, swallowing roughly at the harsh tone, and nodded to show she understood.

"I trust your judgment. I always do, but this time, you should've given me a little insight into your plan because I would've told you the best way to go about getting the information you wanted. Don't you think out of everyone in that godforsaken school, Quinn would be one of the few people I know better than I know myself? She's got a life outside of cheerleading, and one of those lives involved taking mixed-martial arts classes over the summer to work on her stamina. You are a capable fighter, I will give you that, but you are not invincible. You are good at what you do, just as others are good in what they do. Quinn could've have killed you for what you did because you took advantage of her vulnerability and the rawness of her emotions. She's dangerous, Eva, and I don't mean that to be funny. You don't know her just as she doesn't know you, and once you do discover what lies beneath that exterior, you'll find that I'm a chihuahua compared to her.

"Next time, if you want to do something potentially life-threatening, give me a fucking heads-up or a warning or something because watching you on the floor, your head connecting with the tile, scared the shit out of me! You may not have noticed, but I did, and so did the others in the club, but you almost knocked yourself unconscious! One of those things you can't seem to understand is that you have more people behind you now, and you need to take advantage of the information between all of us, not just yourself and your biased beliefs. We're your royal court, so to speak, and just because you're the Ace doesn't mean you can go off doing your own thing without telling your Queen or your King. Understood?"

Eva wanted to be angry. She wanted to yell and throw her words back in her face, but everything Santana said was right. She reached up, swiping at the tear trailing down Santana's cheek, and forced herself to lean up against the headboard.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be sorry. Just do better, and never do something like that again."

"Yes, ma'am."

Santana scowled. "Smart ass," she said.

Eva grinned crookedly and brushed her thumb of Santana's bottom lip. She leaned up for a kiss, or she tried to, but Santana moved out of the way.

"You're not off the hook that easily," she said.

"Wait, what?"

"Here's the thing, I'm sleeping with Brittany until further notice. No touching, no kissing, no cuddling, no hugging, and no dating. For the remainder of the week, possibly more, you're essentially on punishment. Remember the next few days the next time you decide to go off on your own without thinking things all the way through."

"You're bluffing," Eva scoffed.

Santana smiled and crawled off the bed. "Oh no, baby. I never bluff," she said sweetly.

And by sweetly, Eva thought, she meant the type of sweet that comes with a vine wrapping around her throat and squeezing until she couldn't breathe. Santana blew her a kiss, winked, and walked out of the bedroom with a warning that she needed to come downstairs. Eva remained on the bed, equally frustrated, annoyed, and afraid that Santana meant every word of her threat.

"That was NOT a suggestion, Krayevsky!" Santana shouted.

Yelping, Eva scrambled off the bed, stopping to orient herself, and once she was sure she wasn't going to fall flat on her ass, she quickly made her way downstairs.

It was going to be a long week.

* * *

Artie opened the door and moved out of the way for his guest. If there was one thing he knew, it was that he had a lot of groveling to do. His father laid into him for being an asshole over things that he couldn't control anymore, and that left him wishing he could have a do-over. But, since that was impossible, Artie figured he better start apologizing to those he'd hurt with his words.

"What do you want, Artie?"

"I want to apologize to you."

"Really? Why would I accept an apology from you?"

"Because I'm a jerk and I want to be friends again."

"Friends? Were we ever friends, honestly?"

Artie frowned. "I thought so," he said.

His guest snorted, and said, "You were a mopey little boy with anger issues, which I understood, but not once was the friendship beneficial for me."

Artie felt his heart drop into his stomach and he nodded. "Oh, right. I understand. Regardless, I still wanted to apologize," he murmured.

Rolling back toward the front door, Artie was about to open it, allowing his guest could leave when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"But, I'm a sucker for second chances, and I know how hard it was for you to admit any of this. Let's start small and play a few games like we used too. How tonight goes determines how the rest of this," they paused, "friendship develops."

"Thanks, Tina."

The girl gave him a small smile and shrugged. "As I said, I'm a sucker for second chances," she said.


	17. Chapter 17

Tina poured two shots of tequila and slid one across the kitchen island. Trembling hands grabbed the nearest glass, and she watched the owner down the drink with one swallow.

"Why?"

Tina shrugged, pouring herself another shot. She said, "Because I know how you operate, Mr. Abrams, and though her father once appreciated your sneaky ways, I doubt he would've felt the same once he realized you created false identities for you and your son shortly after you released Eva's information to the banks where her accounts are located. It might not seem like a big deal, but you and I both know with the bounty on her head, tellers who get paid nickels and dimes will take any chance they can at doubling -tripling- their profits just by accidentally revealing who she is to the first person that asks. In my line of work," she paused and tapped her fingernails on the marble, "I know how to move money, people, and items under the table while making the buyer and seller believe I never had it in the first place. You, however, have a financial obligation to the people you serve, yet you betray Eva mere moments after she trusted you with the remnants of her deceased fathers' will. Why?"

"I-

Tina cut him off by slamming the bottle down on the table, and she leaned forward. "Your motivations aside, I don't appreciate your betrayal. I may not be in her inner circle, but I am someone who wishes to be on her good side. With that said, what did they offer you?" she asked.

"Artie," he said hoarsely. "They promised to find a medical treatment for my son."

Tina swallowed her response when she heard the reason, and clicked her tongue against her teeth. "No offense to you or Artie, Mr. Abrams, but I was under the impression Artie's condition was untreatable. Unless the last six doctors all conspired against you by telling you he would forever be in that chair, of course," she said.

"It was a risk I was willing to take," he hissed. "I will do anything for my son."

"Understandable, but you realize she wouldn't kill him. Right? She would only kill you, and what would become of Artie then, hmm? You would leave him alone in a world that isn't exactly catered to individuals with his needs?" Tina started clapping sarcastically and added, "If only there were more fathers like you."

Mr. Abrams flinched, and said, "She will spare me. She has too!"

"Why?"

"Because- because she of all people should know what it's like for a child to be without their parents! She's not heartless enough to orphan Artie in a time of his life where he needs me the most!"

Tina blinked, cocking her head, and she said, "Do you really believe that? Honestly, deep in your heart, do you believe that she will let you live after this?"

"Yes," he said.

Tina pretended not to hear the quiver in his voice nor the way he'd twitched as he answered, and she said, "Look, let me simplify this for you. You, Arthur Abrams, put Miss Krayevsky in the spotlight. The moment she steps into either of those banks, whether the accounts are in Sue's name or not, she will have a target on her back. Those kinds of banks have a 'Don't Ask, Don't Repeat' policy. If she gets shot in the back trying to get into her vault, they're going to look the other way and move on with their lives while figuring out a way to get rid of her money without drawing too much attention to themselves. If the situation was reversed, what would you do?"

He slumped forward, and Tina nodded her head.

"Exactly. But you do have a choice," she said.

Mr. Abrams frowned. "What choice is that?" he asked.

"You tell her before I do. Come forward, explain the situation and hope for the best. Or I tell her, and she hunts you down for the rest of your life," she explained. "And I'll even put in a good word for you if you decide to do it on your own. However, I need a small favor in exchange."

"What favor?"

"Find someone for me."

"I don't do that anymore," he said quickly.

"Do you believe you have a choice in this matter?"

Mr. Abrams chewed on his bottom lip before he deflated, and asked, "Who do you want me to find?"

Tina poured another two shots. "Shelby Corcoran," she said. "Or, as she goes by now, Shelly Corban."

* * *

Puck's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he glanced down at the message curiously. All the people who would text him were within shouting distance, so who could it possibly be? Well, except his father, but his Dad would never text him if it were an emergency. He'd call, no matter what.

 _ **Tina: Meet me at the park by the elementary school. Come to the swings. And come alone.**_

Puck blinked, looking around before he typed back a quick message. He excused himself, knowing most people wouldn't notice he was gone due to the conversation happening around him, and he borrowed Sam's car for the evening. Puck rarely spoke with Tina, but her message seemed urgent, and for her to text him and not anyone else meant there was something she didn't want Eva to know about yet. Puck drove fast but kept it just under the speed limit up until he reached the elementary school. Parking under a streetlamp, Puck jogged over to the swings and found Tina rocking back and forth on the nearest seat. She looked up when she heard him and gestured for him to sit next to her.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

Tina said nothing, but she passed him a sheet of paper with a name and address on it. She stood up, brushing her hands on her pants, and she stuck them deep in her jacket pockets.

"Wait until after school to give that to her, because she's going to ask where you got it from and I don't want her knowing it was me until I can get some things in order. Okay?" she said.

"I don't like lying to her or keeping things from her," he said.

"Fine, but make sure she knows I can't give her answers until after I do what I need to do."

Puck nodded, and Tina walked off in the opposite direction he came. Sighing, Puck glanced back down at the note, confused at why she called him out in the middle of the night for it, but he shrugged and went back to his car.

He'd tell Eva about in the morning.

* * *

After a long, emotional, drawn-out conversation between Xavier and Quinn, just between the two of them, Sue and Xavier not-so-subtly pushed Quinn in Eva's direction and told them to make nice for the sake of the growing family. Eva had no problem with it, but she blamed her willingness on the head wound she suffered and ignored the nervousness she felt at making 'nice,' as her godmother called it, with someone who was supposed to be her godsister.

Plus, Santana was non-verbally threatening her to comply, and Eva was not interested in extending her punishment, no matter how unfair it might've been.

"Are you ready to do this or what?"

Eva half-glared at Quinn, but said, "Yes."

The blonde plopped down on the couch next to her and asked, "So where do you want to start, sister?"

"We're not sisters," Eva corrected.

"We might as well be. We were supposed to grow up together, be best friends, and have a ton of adventures together."

"But we didn't."

"Because I was kidnapped, you lost your father, and our entire world fell apart."

"Fine, so, for all intent and purposes, we're sisters," Eva said.

"Great! Glad you see it my way. This will go a lot faster if you just agree with me on everything."

"I'm already regretting this entire conversation."

Quinn snickered. "Well, we don't have a choice. Santana and Brittany aren't speaking to us until we fix whatever this is, my-," she paused with a weird look on her face and quickly corrected herself, "Xavier and Sue are mad at us, and Sam is staying out of it. We've been sentenced to a night of camaraderie."

Eva snorted. "Oh, the horror," she teased.

Quinn nodded sagely. "Indeed."

"You're a dork, but how about we just start small?" she suggested.

"Alright. Let's do something simple, what's your favorite food?"

"Umm, I'm not too sure I have a favorite. I like many things, but I guess if I had to pick it would be anything Santana makes for me."

"You're not getting off punishment with flattery," Quinn said amusedly.

Eva winced. "That obvious huh?"

"She sat next to Sue willingly when there was a wide-open seat next to you. It wasn't that hard to put two and two together."

"Moving on," Eva said, "what's your favorite food?"

"Spinach, feta, pickles, and banana pepper pizza."

"Ew, that's disgusting."

"Hey!" Quinn exclaimed. "Don't knock the Lucy Special until you've had it!"

Eva barked out a laugh and asked, "You named it!?"

"Of course," she said, faking a scowl.

Eva held up her hands in fake surrender, and they continued to trade questions back and forth, making fun of each other for the ridiculous stuff. Quinn loved honey mustard but hated mustard. Eva revealed she used to sleep with a stuffed snake until she was twelve and named it 'Serp.' Quinn eventually told the truth about her hair, saying she had to dye it that blonde to keep it from going back to its natural color. The two of them hadn't even noticed the time until Sue came and told them it was time to go to sleep. Quinn stood up, but hesitated, not really knowing where she was supposed to sleep, and Eva told her there was a spare room upstairs she could use.

"Or you can sleep in my room since I'm sleeping alone," Eva grumbled.

"No thanks, you're not my type."

"Right. I'm not a guy."

Quinn looked at her slyly. "I never said I was straight. I just said you're not my type."

Eva sputtered for a response, but Quinn was already walking out of the room.

"WAIT A MINUTE!" Eva shouted. "Get your ass back here! You can't just- QUINN!"

Eva rushed after her, and the rest of the house shared a collective sigh of relief at the laughter that followed.

But, as one member of the household snuck in through the guard's entrance, ducking up into his room, they had no idea the chaos a simple note from Tina would soon cause.


	18. Chapter 18

Puck came down the stairs, note in hand, and he went into the kitchen to find the entire family gathered at the table. Including the guards and the bikers who stayed behind. Puck didn't want to announce it in front of everyone, so he tapped Eva on the shoulder and jerked his head toward the hall.

"Can I speak with you, please? It's important."

Eva raised an eyebrow but followed him out to the garage door. He shuffled back and forth, clearly nervous, but he gathered his wits and told her the truth from the moment he received Tina's text to the note she handed him.

"Well, what does the note say?" she asked.

Puck handed it to her and watched her face as she read it. It took a moment, but Puck was no fool. He saw the color drain from her face, and the small piece of paper crumpled in her hand.

"She gave this to you?"

Puck nodded slowly.

"And she said nothing else about it?"

He nodded again.

"Will she be at school today?" she asked.

"I was told she had something she needed to do, but the short answer is yes."

"Okay. This stays between us for now. The person on this note," she paused, "is my birth mother. I don't know how or why Tina felt it important to give it to me by way of you, but I will keep my thoughts at bay and wait for an explanation. Tell no one about this, not even Santana."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I am. I need to be certain before I bring her into this. Sue as well."

Puck agreed to keep it between them, and Eva, instead of going back to the kitchen, went back upstairs and Puck went back to the kitchen. He stopped short when everyone turned to look at him, and Brittany beat everyone to it.

"Anything we need to know?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Really?"

"Yep."

Brittany narrowed her eyes at him while Santana changed the subject by telling them it was time to leave. As the group made their way to the garage, Santana snagged Puck by the elbow and waved the rest of them ahead.

"Is it something that could kill her?" she asked quietly.

Puck hesitated, but he shook his head no.

"Okay. Then I will keep the others off your back, for now, but if it goes beyond a few days, I want in, and I won't take no for an answer."

Santana walked off, and Eva came bounding down the stairs shortly after.

"Oh, it's time to go?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, choosing not to tell her about what Santana said. "Let's go before they decide to leave us."

"As if," she scoffed.

Puck let her go first, and he sighed.

What the hell did Tina get him involved in?

Eva approached Tina in the hall before their first period. The girl closed her locker and headed off in the direction of the girls' bathroom with Eva following. No one said a word until the door was locked and the stalls were empty. Tina went first.

"I tend to mind my own business. It's something Mike appreciates about me. When his father yells at him for dancing instead of studying, I tune him out and focus on the math homework I finished almost an hour before. When one of my clients explains she's running from an abusive husband, I force myself not to track down the son of a bitch so weak to put his hands on a woman and give her and her unborn son the identities they need to run away. But what I discovered a couple of days ago put me in the position where I would have to follow the trend or change my path. You see, Artie's father did something so foolish that I couldn't have ignored him even if I wanted too. He posted your real name and address online, as well as your face, and contacted one of my people for new identities shortly after.

"Had you gone to any of the banks listed in your father's will, whichever you choose, you would've been killed before you could go to a teller and ask to see a manager. Mr. Abrams put your life and everyone you love lives in danger because of a trade-off that wouldn't have come to fruition. That's part one. Part two, however, is where the note about your birth mother comes in. She's a teller at one of the banks your father used to stash his money, one of the banks that now have your picture, address, and real name. She recognized the last name, hired a PI, and fact-checked the information. My contact told me she bought a plane ticket to Columbus a few nights ago for this afternoon. Since she's connected you to the accounts, I have it on good authority that she's on her way here, to Lima, to re-establish a connection with you for that reason and that reason alone."

Eva clenched her jaw and gripped the sink so hard her knuckles turned white. "I don't want anything to do with her. She signed me away a long time ago, and if she thinks she can just waltz back into my life just because I have a little money, then she's got another thing coming."

"I wouldn't say little," Tina said dryly.

Eva glared at her through the mirror and Tina held up her hands. "You know what I meant," she huffed.

"I know, I know," Tina said. "Unofficially, I wasn't supposed to tell you this, but I feel like you should know why. She's a teller, yes, but Shelby got roped into some bad shit and owes some terrible people a lot of money," Tina said.

"Not that it matters, but who and how much?" Eva sighed.

"The Corona Cartel and the Giovanni Family. Two million. Each."

Eva spun around. "How the hell does someone owe that amount of money?!" she exclaimed.

"Shelby had a habit, an expensive one, but she went off the grid without paying for it. The people mentioned have an interest rate through the roof. It was something explained to me in fine details not too long ago."

Eva narrowed her eyes and said, "What aren't you telling me?"

Tina grimaced and pulled up her shirt, revealing a barely healed bullet wound near her hip. "Since I helped Shelby run away, the representatives for the respective families weren't too happy with me. The point was for me to stay alive but remember that I'm in their debt for my role in helping Shelby escape. It doesn't matter whether I knew or not, but the fact I helped her makes me guilty in their eyes. If Shelby doesn't pay by Christmas, I'm dead."

"Are you asking me to help you or her?"

"Neither. I'm telling you that Shelby will get here by tonight, and if someone were to send a message to a representative in one, or both, of those families, we could have this taken care of by the end of the weekend."

"You're asking me to set my birth mother up and have her killed?"

Tina made a face. "When you say it like that, it makes me sound completely heartless," she grumbled.

"More like self-preservation, something I sympathize with and understand. Honestly, though I barely know you, if it were between her or you, I would choose you. You benefit my life more."

"Thank you?"

"You're welcome. When did you say Shelby was getting in?"

"Toni- wait, so we're doing this?" Tina asked.

"Yes. I'll deal with the moral implications later. But first, we have a problem we need to take care of, and he should be in Chemistry by now."

Artie got the text from Tina, again, and excused himself to their meeting spot in the choir room. He would've been their faster, but he kept running into things because he was distracted. His father seemed scared that morning, terrified of his own shadow, and whenever Artie asked him about it, he would yell at him to mind his own business. Eventually, Artie left it alone, but something was wrong, and he wanted to know why.

"Tina?" he called out, coming into the choir room.

"Hey, Artie."

He turned his chair around, and the smile on his face dropped. "What is she doing here?" he asked.

Eva closed the door, and that's when Artie noticed a piece of paper taped to the window. Tina sat down on the bench and ran a hand through her hair.

"Your father did something idiotic, Artie," she said. "Something that put Eva's life in danger."

"You say that like I care."

"I would if I were you," Tina said darkly. "Because what happens next depends on how well you play your part."

Artie scoffed. "This is bullshit. Let me out of here, or I'll scream," he threatened.

Eva moved faster than he anticipated, and a hand went over his mouth as a dagger went into his right hand, pinning it into the wheel. "Do you think this is a game?" she said in a low voice, her eyes flashing dangerously. "My family is the most important thing to me, and your father put them in danger. I don't care about his reasons. The lesson is simple: don't do it again. The role you play in all of this determines whether he sees his son die before his life ends, or you live to see your father die and join me in the Orphan Club. Which do you prefer?"

Artie whimpered as she dug the blade in deeper, and he sunk down on one side as his wheel started to deflate.

"Pick before I pick for you," Eva whispered in his ear.

Santana munched on some cashews, sitting next to Quinn as she sketched, and Brittany danced around the auditorium stage above them.

"Is that supposed to be Eva?" she asked.

"Sort of. I'm doing a caricature of her."

"Oh. Cute."

"Santana, how much longer do you think you're going to pretend to be mad at Eva?" Brittany asked, hopping down to the floor.

"No later than next Monday," she said distractedly.

"Why that day?"

"We have wild sex on the weekends, and I want her to suffer a little."

"I did not need to know that."

"Neither did I," Quinn muttered, fake-gagging.

"You'll get over it."

Their phones going off cut off whatever response they had, and Brittany read hers first.

"Huh. That's a new one."

"What? I don't feel like digging for my phone," Santana said.

"Well, in short, Eva's birth mother will be in Lima tonight along with two representatives from the Corona Cartel and Monty Giovanni, yes, that Giovanni. It's a bait trap."

Santana and Quinn both said, "Wait, what?"

Brittany sighed as their phones dinged again and she read the text message. "I think it's best we go meet up with Eva in the choir room," she said.

"Why?" Santana asked, already getting up.

"Eva may or may not have attacked Artie, and she needs our help covering it up."

Santana pinched the bridge of her nose and counted down from ten. "That girl is going to be the death of me," she muttered.

"Oh, but a way to go," Quinn joked.


	19. Chapter 19

**Should I warn you about a character death even though it was kind of implied?**

* * *

Santana smiled tightly at Tina, holding up her index finger, and she said, "May I borrow her for a moment?"

"Uh, sure?"

"Thank you."

Santana dug her nails into Eva's arm, and she hissed in her ear, "Why must you make things so difficult? What part of we are a team did you not understand?"

"I wasn't ready for anyone to know," Eva said defensively.

"How do you explain Puck?"

"Tina told him, and then he told me. It wasn't like I wanted him to know."

Santana closed the door to Mr. Schue's office behind them and locked it. "Okay, let's start over, shall we?" she said. "What the hell is going on? Why does Artie have a knife in his hand?"

Eva pursed her lips. "It's simple, honestly. His Dad did something stupid, leading to my birth mother discovering my location, and now she's on her way here in hopes of getting her hands on some of my money to pay off a debt to the Giovanni Family and the Corona Cartel. That's literally the whole story, minus a couple of unnecessary additions."

Santana ignored the lead in her chest at the mention of the Giovanni Family, and said, "I want the whole thing, Eva."

"Tina and I plan on setting her up. We have representatives from each family coming to the house for dinner Sunday night as a way to show neutrality and maybe set up some alliances outside of Lima, Ohio. They can also do whatever they want with my birth mother."

Santana blinked once, twice, and on the third time, she exclaimed, "In what WORLD are those unnecessary additions?!"

Eva frowned. "I always consider her an unnecessary addition. She didn't want me, why should I care what happens to her?" she asked.

"Not that," Santana said. "I'm talking about inviting the Gio Family and Corona Cartel-

"Did you just call them the Gio Family?" Eva interrupted.

Santana clamped her mouth shut and pretended to pick lint off her clothes. "Hmm?" she said.

"I said, did you just call them the Gio Family?" Eva asked again.

"I, uh, maybe?"

Eva narrowed her eyes and backed Santana against Mr. Schue's desk, placing her hands on the table. With Santana trapped, Eva mocked, "What happened to not lying to each other? We're a team, remember?"

"It's complicated," she murmured.

"Uncomplicate it, Santana."

"Angel Giovanni is my mom's ex-boyfriend."

"Pardon?"

"You heard me."

"I know, but I'm trying to figure out how-

"I have a sister," Santana blurted.

Eva cocked her head. "Your Mom had a baby by Mr. Giovanni," she guessed.

"Yes," Santana admitted, lowering her head. "But Dad never made a big deal about it. After Momma died, we lost contact. I get a birthday card from her now and then, and I send her one, but other than that, nothing."

Eva, ignoring the rules about displays of affection, kissed Santana on the forehead and asked, "What's her name?"

"Reagan," Santana said.

"Baby, I need you to look at me."

Santana sighed and looked up.

"I'm not mad at you for not telling me. I mean, that's almost like me not telling you about my ex-girlfriend. I'm just worried. I don't want this to be a problem in the future."

"It won't be."

"Are you sure? Do you want me to cancel?"

"Absolutely not. I just panicked, that's all. Also, please realize the two groups you are inviting more than likely know about the bounty, and you're going to have to offer them something more than your birth mother to get them on your side."

Eva gave her a look and smiled. "I have a plan," she said slyly.

Santana made a face and shook her head. "I don't want to know," she said. "But I do want to know what you're going to do about Artie."

"I'm gonna kill him," she said bluntly.

"I- okay. At this point, I'm just going to go with the flow."

"Good idea."

* * *

Quinn rubbed her nails against her shirt as they wheeled Artie out to the football field. "You know, we could've just dumped him in the laundry basket and took him through the locker room instead of all the Mission Impossible shit," she said.

"Was that not something you could've said before now?" Eva hissed.

"Ignore her. She hasn't eaten yet," Santana said.

"She's always like this though."

"She has shitty eating habits," Brittany chimed in. "So, she's always cranky."

"I do not have shitty eating habits!"

"Yes, you do! Had your girlfriend not started feeding you, you would still be eating junk food breakfast, lunch, and dinner with cocktails as appetizers!"

"Are they always like this?" Tina whispered, coming to a stop under the bleachers with the others.

"So far, yep."

"And how did you get involved with all of this? I thought you hated Eva."

"I do. I always will, but not for the reasons you think. She and I have come to an agreement that our past lives stem from hate, jealousy, and anger, but our future doesn't have to be. Right now, we're like sisters who went without talking for several years, and now we're back together again trying to adjust to our new selves."

Tina side-eyed her and said, "That was oddly specific."

"I'm good with analogies."

"Or maybe you're telling the truth about the sister thing and trying to cover it up with humor."

"You're too observant."

"Part of my job, Quinn."

"Is pretending to be straight also a part of your job or just a side business?" Quinn deadpanned.

Tina smirked. "I never said I was straight. Mike and I have an understanding. It's just physical."

"Gross."

"Says the girl that pretended to date Sam for all those months even though she drooled whenever a short skirt crossed her eye-line."

"I wasn't pretending. I genuinely liked Sam, I just went about it the wrong way."

"So you don't deny staring at girls' asses all day?"

Quinn leaned over and whispered, "I stare at yours too."

Tina laughed. "I know. Why do you think I go out of my way to gym class every afternoon? I enjoy the attention."

"Narcissist much?"

"No, I just like the way it feels when you look at me like that."

Someone cleared their throat, and Quinn and Tina turned to see Brittany, Santana, and Eva, along with Puck and Sam, staring at them in amusement.

"You guys done? Or do you need a minute alone?" Santana asked wryly.

Quinn's face heated, and she folded her arms. "We're done."

"For now," Tina said under her breath.

"Moving on," Eva said quickly. "I need two people to stay behind and act like nothing's wrong, two people to go to Sue and tell her what's going on, and one person to come with Sam and me to take care of the other problem."

"Santana and I have a test today," Tina pointed out, much to Santana's disappointment.

"Fuck," she sighed. "I totally forgot about that."

"Brittany and I have to meet with Sue anyway," Puck said slowly.

Everyone looked at Quinn, who rolled her eyes and said, "I'm more than capable of going with Eva and Sam."

"You do realize they're not going over there to talk, right?" Santana said.

"Artie's father told Russell about my internet history a couple summers ago when he went to get my laptop fixed. Russell locked me in the basement for two weeks after he beat me unconscious. I have nothing but indifference towards this entire situation."

"And if we were to go after Russell?" Eva asked coolly.

Quinn stared blankly and said, "I would only care if you didn't make them suffer."

* * *

The plane flew over the ocean, the moonlit waters offering a form of comfort to the Italian, but beneath the calm demeanor was a sense of anxiety she hadn't felt in years. When her father informed her, at the last minute, that Shelby Corcoran had been found, Reagan jumped at the opportunity to go after her. That woman was the bane of her father's existence, and she caused him much financial backlash when she stole from him almost eighty-five percent of his product. When Reagan discovered the woman would be in Lima by the end of the weekend, that insistency transformed into hesitancy, and her father asked if someone else needed to take the job, mistaking her uncertainty for fear. Reagan quickly informed him she was more than capable of doing what was needed, and he allowed her to go.

Angel Giovanni forbade her from keeping in contact with her half-sister, and Reagan followed that order three-hundred and sixty-four days out of the year. On the one day she did break that rule, she wanted her baby sister to know that she was there for her, but there would always be an ocean separating them.

So, with the blessing of their father, Reagan and her half-brother got on a plane to Ohio with the orders of not leaving until Shelby was dead or at the very least incapacitated. Unbeknownst to her father, AJ already knew about Santana, and he figured out her mood fairly quickly.

"Does she know you're coming?" he asked.

"No. It was too last minute. By the time she got the letter, I would have been there and gone."

"Are you not going to contact her?"

"No. We are there for one thing and one thing only. If I screw this up because of some sentimental outreach, Papa would kill me and disown me faster than the bullet will leave his gun."

"You're being dramatic."

"I'm the bastard child, AJ."

"You're his firstborn."

"And you're his first son with the woman he married and not the woman he almost died for. I remind him of her, and I can tell that it bothers him."

AJ sighed. "I still think we should contact her when we get there. I think it'll be good for you to see her."

Reagan said nothing, and AJ finally gave up. She went back to staring at the water beneath them and prayed she wouldn't run into Santana while she was in Lima. The last thing she needed was a reason not to return to Italy, and Santana was a good enough motivation to escape the demons her mother left behind, ironically enough.

* * *

Quinn passed a bottle to Sam and he clinked it against hers.

"You know, we were a really good couple," he said.

"We were terrible together. I made you quit football," she scoffed.

"Maybe, but we looked good."

Quinn snorted and popped her cap off, passing the opener to Sam to do the same. They watched Eva pour bleach all over Artie's body, crinkling their nose at the smell, and Mr. Abrams stomped his feet, making a whole lot of noise, and it seemed to annoy Eva, who tossed what was left of the bleach in his face.

"Ouch," Sam murmured. "That's got to burn."

Quinn hummed and passed Eva the knife as she stalked over to them.

"Are you two going to help or not?" she huffed.

"No," they said simultaneously.

"You seem to have it under control," Sam added cheekily.

Eva sneered at them but left them standing in the kitchen.

"What's she going to do to him?" Quinn asked.

"Slit his throat, let him bleed out, and set the body on fire."

"Is that why she had you disable the smoke alarm?"

"Yup."

"Aren't people going to see us leave?"

"Nah, Mr. Abrams has passage out of his basement that goes into the woods. Those woods lead to the park, which is why we-

"Parked down there and not closer," Quinn finished. "Smart."

"She can be when she wants to be."

"How did she know about the-

"Tina," Sam said. "Your girlfriend."

"Not my girlfriend, not even my friend."

"Could've fooled me."

"Jealous?"

Sam snorted and nudged her in the side. "Not a chance. I'm glad we broke up and I'm glad you're here. I think you and I are better friends than lovers," he said.

"Agreed."

Quinn's smile faded into a grimace as Eva dragged the knife deeply across Mr. Abram's throat, and the blood splattered all over the walls and floor. And Eva. She then stabbed Mr. Abram's in his chest, broke the handle of the knife, and tossed it at Sam who caught it easily. Eva rolled Artie back next to his father and grabbed a matchbook off the table. Taking three steps back, Eva struck a match and chucked it on the floor under the two bodies. The fire caught quickly, and Eva struck two more before deeming the fire strong enough to burn away as much evidence as possible.

Sam snagged a towel off the oven rack and wiped down the fridge and whatever else he and Quinn might've touched before throwing it over Eva's head into the inferno.

"Let's go, Eva," he called out, using the sleeve of his jacket to open the basement door. "You can watch something else burn later, fucking pyromaniac."

Eva pouted but made her way over to where they were standing, and Sam indulged her for a few more minutes before the smoke became too much. They kept their hands to themselves as they sprinted down the stairs and out through the passage way Tina told them about. Quinn, once they reached the woods, refrained from looking back, and they kept going until they saw the park in the distance. Slowing down, Quinn couldn't help it, and she started to laugh.

"Holy fuck that was insane," she said breathlessly.

Eva gave her a look and patted her on the shoulder. "I was like that after my first kill," she said sagely.

Sam clicked his tongue against his teeth and poured some of his beer over Eva's head. "Don't be weird," he snickered.

Eva stuck out her tongue, running a hand through her hair, and the trio walked the long way to their car.

Not once looking back to see the dark smoke rising over the trees.

* * *

"Uh, are you Shelly?"

The brunette smiled widely and held out her hand. "I am," she said. "You must be Stone."

The limo driver grinned, shaking her hand, and said, "Right in one."

"Oh wow! I love your accent! Where are you from?"

Stone opened the door. "The United Kingdom. Bunch of places, really."

"That's so cool. So, do you have the address I sent you?"

Her driver's smile faltered a bit, and she could've sworn something dark flashed behind his eyes, but it was gone before she could focus too much on it, and he gave her a short nod.

"Yes, ma'am. Lima, Ohio is our destination, and I'll have you there in no time."

"Great! I'm supposed to be meeting my daughter for the first time. I'm so excited!"

Stone closed the door with a chuckle, and he walked around to get in the driver's seat. As the limo pulled off, no one paid much attention to the tie sticking out of the luggage tucked under a bench nor the noticeable blood stains along the cream exterior.


	20. Chapter 20

**Warning: this chapter gets a smidge graphic and toes the line of 'dark.'**

 **Thank you to those reviewers: Packer82, Dezired86, GypsySoul05 (just to name a few) who make me feel much better about myself as a writer. I truly appreciate you guys and I hope you continue to enjoy the story.**

 **That also goes for everyone who follows, by the way.**

* * *

Santana knew she was breaking all of her rules just by being there, but she knew Eva was hiding something from her. The way her girlfriend laughed a little longer than everyone else, the way her eyes would glaze over whenever someone mentioned her birth mother, and there was the fact that Eva was so willing, so ready, to sentence the woman to death without hesitation. Stone had already gone to pick up the woman, and Santana made a mental note to ask him the name of the limo driver he more than likely had to kill. She wanted to see if he had a family or someone that relied on him. She had no qualms about murder, but she was all too familiar with losing a loved one, and she at least wanted to send some money to help out with bills and the funeral costs.

"What are you thinking about?"

Santana leaned back when she noticed how close Eva was and said, "Nothing."

"I'll let that lie go for now," Eva said. "But how long have you been in here?"

"I came in as you were doing your drum solo."

Eva rolled her eyes. "I think a better question would be why are you in my bathroom?"

"I'm here to ambush you."

"Ambush me? Why?"

"You're upset about having to meet your birth mother, and you're two seconds away from having an emotional breakdown. I'm here to make sure you don't screw things up because of unresolved issues."

"Pretty sure this is where I call you a hypocrite."

"And you would be correct. I am a hypocrite when it comes to emotions and unresolved issues, but my issues aren't going to affect future alliances and get us all killed because you promised something you can't deliver because you ran her away after the appetizer."

Eva scowled. "I thought I said a regular meal. Why do we have appetizers?"

"Don't change the subject."

"There is no subject," Eva said. "I'm fine."

"No, you are not." Santana wrapped her legs around Eva and crossed her ankles to keep her from leaving. "Your birth mother arrives in an hour, and I need you on top of your game," she said.

"First, her name is Shelby. Stop calling her my birth mother. The only thing I see her as is my incubator. Nothing more and nothing less. I am grateful she carried me for the months that she did, but outside of that, she's a bitch and a whore, and I hope the people we deliver her to slit her throat and dump her body in the ocean. This has nothing to do with unresolved issues. I'm forcing myself to play nice with a woman who got rid of me because she had big dreams that I would cause her to miss out on, which is bullshit. I appreciate you coming in here to make sure I'm okay, but I promise this time, I'm not upset. I'm pissed that I have to smile in her face and pretend to want a relationship when all I want to do is string her up by her ankles in the woods and let nature take its course."

Santana shuddered a bit, always finding herself in the position where she forgets how twisted her girlfriend can be, but she recovered and said, "I feel like trying to work through all that you said would require more than an hour, so I'll leave it at that."

"Thank you. Since we're calling each other out on our bullshit now, do you want to talk about why you lied about going home to see your father when the truth was you were driving around Lima until you felt like it was a good enough time to come back?"

"Are you having me followed?"

"Don't change the subject."

Santana dropped her legs and pushed Eva back. "I don't go home because there's nothing there for me. My father is never home. It's an empty house with painful memories that neither one of us want to relive. And he made the mistake of saying I'm starting to look more and act like my mother. He and I have an understanding. I call in now and then, say hi, and he does the same, but spending time with one another ends up causing us both more pain than it's worth."

"See? Unresolved issues."

"You're an asshole."

"And you're a bitch, but I love you just the same."

"I think that's probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Just wait until I ask you to marry me."

Santana smiled and kissed Eva on the nose. "You're a dork. And you still owe me a date."

"Before or after I have Shelby killed?"

"Preferably after."

"Done."

* * *

Quinn knew it wasn't warm enough for a swim, but she still found herself in the pool floating on her back.

"How long have you had that tattoo?"

"I got it last year."

"What is it?"

"It's a drawing I did of the Deathly Hallows."

"What's that?"

"It's a Harry Potter thing."

"That's the movie with the kid and the nose guy, right?"

Quinn snorted and moved so that she was treading water. Glancing up at Xavier, she watched him take off his boots and roll up his pants before he sat down and put his feet in the water. They stared at one another, not wanting to break the silence first, but Quinn knew they had to start somewhere.

"We never really got beyond working through what happened. I mean, we made our peace about it, but we really don't know one another."

"We don't have to do that thing you were doing with Eva, do we?" he asked.

"No," she said, laughing. "I think that falls under the new friend category. You and I probably have to go a little deeper."

"Do we have time for that tonight?"

Quinn sighed. "No, probably not, but I want to ask you something since you're here."

"Go for it, kid."

"If I asked you to kill Russell, would you?"

Xavier folded his arms, looking up at the sky, and he started to laugh. "Kid, I would splatter the walls of that perfect little house with his blood and turn it into a horror movie, and that would be after I break every bone in his body."

Quinn waded to the side of where he was sitting and pulled herself out of the pool. She sat next to him, unaffected by the cold air, and she said, "I want to come with you when you do."

"No way."

"I wasn't asking," she said. "Either I come, or I do it myself without your help."

Xavier frowned but gave a short nod. "Fine. Long as you do what I say, you can come."

"Deal." Then she smiled, seeing the way he kept glaring at her swimsuit, and added, "Go on, I know you have something to say about what I'm wearing."

"I'm just confused on why you need to show so much skin!"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't get a chance to wear stuff like this often. Russell says I look like a slut when I do," she said.

"I won't go that far because I've seen the underwear nuns wear, but-

"Wait, what?" she interrupted, laughing. "When have you ever seen a nun's underwear? I thought they were holy and pure and all that."

Xavier winked. "Your old man has his ways," he said cheekily.

"Gross."

"I guess I really don't have a say in what you wear, huh?" he asked after a moment.

Quinn patted him on the shoulder. "I don't mind as long as you remember that I'm almost eighteen and unfortunately, we've missed out on the rebellious phase where you get to yell at me for my clothing style. I will let you rant about my short skirts, tight shirts, and tattoos, but I think we both agree that you trying to control me will do more harm than good."

"That is true," he sighed. "Promise to at least punch the guys who leer just a little too long?"

"Duh. I do that anyway."

"That goes for the girls too."

"I can't promise that. I quite like when the girls leer a little too long. Makes me feel all tingly inside."

Xavier fake-gagged and got to his feet. "Nope, too much. I'm going inside," he grumbled. "Don't be out here too long."

"I won't," she promised. "And just so you know, I like you more than the other one."

"You better. I go through a lot of hair dye to make myself likable."

"Keep it up, and maybe one day I'll call you Dad."

Xavier paused putting on his shoes, and Quinn jumped back in the water to avoid whatever response he had. Just because she could see herself calling him Dad, didn't mean she was ready to start at that moment.

* * *

Reagan whistled under her breath, staring at the unconscious man tied to the toilet. She was glad her father snuck blades on the plane for her along with a note that told her he would see her whenever she decided to return to Italy.

"Guess the old man knows me better than I thought," she muttered.

"Hey, Ray?"

She swiped her hair out of her face and left the bathroom, going into the living room to find AJ looking at the room service menu.

"You want french fries or onion rings with your burger?" he asked.

"Onion rings."

"Ketchup?"

"Honey mustard."

"Okay. I think I want the steak, but I doubt it'll be any good. The burger sounds good, but I don't want regular beef."

"Why don't you just get the steak burger?"

"I knew there was a reason I keep you around."

"Was that a compliment or an insult?" she asked wryly.

AJ waved her off and dialed the number for room service. She went back into the bathroom and stripped out of her shirt, tossing it on her suitcase. She chewed on her bottom lip, studying the body and trying to figure out what would cause him the most pain once he was conscious again.

"Why is it always a man?" AJ asked from the door.

"It's not just because they're men. I go after the ones that think they can get away with treating a woman like an object and not a human being. You were in the bathroom when he palmed my ass and ground his dick against me. I can still smell his cologne and I couldn't shake it."

"Why didn't you say anything before now?"

"Because I wanted to have fun with him first. I found a new technique I've wanted to try out."

"I think I've said this before, but you are a depraved individual, you know that?"

"I took a test. I'm not crazy."

"You took an online quiz that rated your insanity. That doesn't count," he argued.

Reagan tied her hair into a ponytail and grabbed a scalpel from the bag on the table. Kicking the man a few times, she waited until she saw his eyelids flutter before she straddled his waist and put the scalpel just under his right eye. Realizing her brother was still standing behind her, she asked without turning around, "Are you going to watch?"

"Eh, least until the food gets here."

When the flight attendant opened his eyes, he jerked against his bindings and screamed against the tape, but she merely shook her head and tightened her grip on the blade in her hands. AJ perched on the counter behind her, and Reagan smiled brightly.

"I normally don't give out warnings, but for you, I'll make an exception. This is going to hurt, but I found that taking a deep breath before experiencing any kind of pain acts as a temporary relief. So, I suggest you take a really deep one because this is going to hurt really bad."

Reagan waited until she felt the man's chest rise before she started carving into the white space of the man's eye. Part of her knew AJ wouldn't stick around long, but the other part of her didn't really care if her brother watched or not. No one ever stayed until the end, which was truly unfortunate because that's when she did her best work.


	21. Chapter 21

**This chapter kept going and I had to split it in two. It was at least five thousand words. Also, I've fallen in love with one of my characters and I wish I could write an entire chapter based on Reagan. She's fun. Anyway! Mistakes are mine!**

* * *

Early Sunday morning found Santana and Eva in the grocery store staring at the most extensive collection of pasta they'd ever seen. Of course, the moment was lost on Eva as it was three o'clock in the morning, and she was too tired to function.

"I cannot believe you," she sighed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "You wake me up in the middle of the night to take you to the only twenty-four-hour store within in driving distance, which, might I add, is an hour away from the house, and you have the nerve not to know what you want to buy!"

"Look, I realized I don't have any pasta on the menu. I just don't know what kind of pasta to get."

"You literally just proved my point."

Santana ignored her, and Eva groaned, knowing the longer she stood there not helping the longer it would take for them to go home. Glancing around quickly, Eva pointed to the box of Capellini pasta.

"Use that one," she said. "We can grab tomatoes and basil on our way out. You have plenty of oil, garlic, and cheese at home. It's simple, won't take long, and you don't have to worry about time because it'll literally take you five minutes to throw it all together."

"I- thank you," Santana said softly. "I know you're tired and I'm sorry for having you drive all the way out here. I just want tonight to be perfect."

"I know, love. I'm just cranky."

Santana smiled and picked the box off the shelf, pulling out her phone to erase the item off her list. It was then Eva realized she had no idea what her girlfriend was cooking for dinner or how much food she was preparing.

"How many people are coming again?"

"Well, Sam's parents changed their minds about coming so they'll be there now, my Dad is coming, Noah's Dad, Sue and Xavier, the guards and bikers, plus us and the court…" Santana trailed off with a glazed look in her eyes before she finally answered, "I'd say around thirty, thirty-five people."

"WHAT!" Eva exclaimed. "I didn't know you were supposed to be cooking for that many people. I was expecting like ten or fifteen, but thirty? No way! We can order a pizza or maybe some Chinese takeout or-

Santana jerked her close and put her index finger over Eva's lips, effectively cutting off her rant. "Hush, baby. I got this. Let me worry about the food while you worry about everything else. I promise I have this under control."

Eva knew she should've responded, but she was distracted by the urge to take Santana's bottom lip between her teeth and give it a good tug. She kept staring at the maroon-painted lips, seeing the glimpses of white and wanted to take her girlfriend against the wall of organic pasta. At that thought, Eva blinked, stepped back, and folded her arms.

"Sorry," she said, her voice cracking at the end.

Santana brushed past her, a knowing smile on her face, and Eva's eyes drifted down to the jean covered ass. It amazed her how much more attractive Santana was when she was wearing her clothes, and considering the pants were just a little too baggy, showing flashes of red lace, Eva was proud of herself for not drooling in the middle of the aisle. When perfectly manicured fingers wrapped suddenly around her neck, Eva kicked herself for not noticing Santana had come back. The grip tightened until she was gasping for air, Santana nipping at her jaw but never staying long enough to leave a mark, and black dots filled her vision. Once the hand was gone, Eva took a deep breath while Santana walked away, pretending as if nothing happened, but Eva didn't have that luxury. She ran a hand through her hair, looking around to see if anyone was watching, and then exhaled shakily.

"Fuck man," she groaned.

Santana vanished around the corner, and Eva forced herself to move. She took measured steps, keeping her head down and never allowing herself to make any type of contact with the warm body next to her, but Eva could barely tell the difference between an onion and an apple at that moment. Santana had the upper hand, and as long as the punishment was still in play, Eva was screwed.

* * *

Sunday afternoon, about two hours before the dinner, Brittany sucked on a lollipop as she watched Quinn walk around the room in a towel. Her friend had a body that most people paid a lot of money for, and it was on display as she searched through the clothes Sue went out and bought for her.

"Suit or a dress?" Quinn asked, keeping her back to Brittany.

"Is nothing an option?" she murmured, practically drooling at the flexing muscles.

"Are- really?"

Brittany shrugged and continued ogling while Quinn chose a pair of dark blue suit pants and a white shirt. "I mean, I would not be opposed if you came downstairs in your birthday suit," she said.

Quinn paused and looked back at her. "Are you flirting with me or just being Britt?" she asked.

"Both. Too bad I can't act on my hormones."

"Not asking because I want it to happen, but why?"

"Because we don't have time for what I want to do with you."

"Says who?"

Brittany accidentally bit through her lollipop, causing pieces of candy to fall to the carpet. She was glad she wasn't wearing any underwear. They would've been ruined by that simple comment. Quinn crossed the room and stood over her, her hair dripping wet. Drops of water landed on Brittany's face as Quinn bent down.

"Out of curiosity, what exactly do you want to do with me?" she whispered right before the door opened.

"Not a fucking chance," Santana drawled. "If I can't get any, you two sure as hell can't, and won't, get any."

Brittany scoffed. "YOU are the reason you can't have sex, not us!" she argued.

"And I am the reason YOU two aren't going to have it any time soon," she said pointedly. "Plus, Eva needs you downstairs for something, Britt."

"For what?"

"I have no idea. I'm only the messenger."

"More like the errand girl," Quinn mumbled.

Santana moved faster than either of them anticipated, and Quinn yelped as her legs were kicked out from under her. Santana huffed, blowing a stray piece of hair out of her face, and stared meaningfully at Brittany. "If you aren't down there in the next minute, she'll come up and get you. If you think I'm cranky at the lack of sex, just imagine how much worse she is, and multiply that by ten," she warned.

Brittany groaned, never being more frustrated at Santana and Eva than in that moment, and Santana snickered as she left the room, leaving the door wide open.

"Go on, you know she's right," Quinn said, finally climbing back to her feet.

"Monday can't come soon enough."

"And neither can they."

Brittany fake-gagged. "Gross. I didn't need that image in my head," she said.

"You'll live. Now, go on! Wasn't like we were doing anything anyway."

"Not for lack of trying." Quinn laughed, and Brittany decided to get in one last comment. With her hand on the door and an evil glint in her eye, she added, "Plus, I think Tina would feel slighted for having fun without her."

Quinn's shoulders tensed so quickly that she would've missed it had she not been looking for it. Smiling, Brittany closed the door on Quinn's half-hearted sputtering and stuck her tongue out at Santana as she found her standing right outside the room.

"Must you torture her like that?" she asked.

"Eavesdropping? How childish of you," Brittany said dryly.

"The walls are thin."

"Liar."

"One of the best."

"And this is why I hate you."

"Love you too."

Brittany turned on her heel in the direction of the basement and hummed under her breath. She was somewhat teasing Quinn, but the idea of having both her and Tina in bed at the same time seemed more appealing the longer she thought about it.

 _Wow. This family has turned into a bunch of sex-deprived psychopaths_ , she thought.

* * *

A half hour before they were due to arrive at the address provided, Reagan's leg bounced up and down as she sat in the passenger's seat. She'd spent most of their morning scrubbing down the hotel bathroom, living room, and parts of the bedroom. It concerned AJ how much blood she trekked in and around the suite, but Reagan countered his worry by saying that the more mess she made, the more efficient she could be.

He still shot her weird looks when she thought he wasn't looking.

When they saw the sign indicating Lima was forty miles away, AJ spoke for the first time since they'd gotten on the road.

"I looked her up."

Reagan didn't respond though she was proud of him for lasting as long as he did without mentioning her sister.

"She lives in the same house. Her Dad works at the hospital, and I thought we could drive by the place before we leave. We don't have to go in, but I know you can tell a lot about someone just by seeing how they live."

Reagan focused on the orange and red blurs to her right, her leg no longer bouncing, and AJ turned on the radio, but not before he got in one last shot.

"You deserve to see her again, Ray. Your happiness matters to me, and if seeing her makes you happy, then we will see her before we leave. No matter if I have to tie you down and drag you there myself."

Reagan reached over and raised the volume of the song playing. AJ had a good heart, good intentions, but she'd lived long enough avoiding her problems, and she wasn't going to change just because her brother wanted to be sentimental.

* * *

Santana ran around the kitchen, her hair still up in rollers, and she smacked Puck's hands away as he tried to snatch a piece of garlic toast.

"Touch again, and I remove your hand," she growled at him.

Puck was dragged away by Sam, who shot Santana an apologetic smile, but she bared her teeth at him. Brittany and Quinn picked up different plates, taking them into the dining room/conference room, and Santana could see Eva leading Shelby down into the basement. Part of her wondered if someone else needed to go down there with them, but Eva had a plan, and Santana would stick to it, no matter how much she wanted to say screw it and hang Shelby from the banisters like a prized animal.

"Oh, God," Santana whispered. "I'm turning into my girlfriend."

"Not too sure that's a good thing, Kid."

She glared at Xavier, and the biker put his hands up in surrender before snatching the two bottles of wine off the counter. Santana's heart rate spiked when Eva came back upstairs, alone, but her girlfriend gave her a small smile tinged with restrained fury, and all was right in the world.

Sort of.

Santana was still very much worried about her state of mind after she realized part of her was hoping Eva would lose control of her anger and give Shelby more than a whack on the head.

"I need a drink," she muttered, putting the back of her hand against her forehead.

A glass of scotch appeared in her vision, and she took it gratefully.

"It's a double," her father warned.

Santana downed the whole glass and passed it back to her father. "Next time make it a triple," she sighed.

"I'm almost positive this warrants a talk about the dangers of alcoholism."

"It'll be a waste of time," she said.

"Clearly. You drank that without coughing, and that was the strongest scotch in the cabinet. Didn't it burn going down?"

"Duh. That's how I know it's working."

Antonio snickered at his daughter, glad that despite all of the painful reminders in their relationship they could still laugh with one another, and he kissed the top of her head just as the doorbell rang.

"Baby! Can you and Sam get the door!" Eva shouted from the living room.

Sam had just come into the kitchen, his hands halfway to the pan containing the steak, and Santana felt her father removing the rollers from her hair. When he finished, Sam held out his arm and Santana slipped hers into the crook of his elbow.

"You ready?" he whispered in her ear.

Knowing Sam nor the others knew about her connection to the Giovanni family, and hoping that Mr. Giovanni sent someone that wouldn't recognize her, she put on a fake smile and said, "Absolutely."

* * *

Reagan had her eyes searching the compound, impressed with its size when the door opened. It took about ten seconds for the brown eyes on the opposite side of the threshold to widen in shock, and Reagan cursed every deity in existence for the massive shit storm that was her life. Even after all that time, Reagan recognized the girl standing in front of her. The lack of reaction on AJ's part told Reagan he was bluffing in the car about looking her up. He wasn't that great of an actor.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she sighed.

AJ elbowed her, hard, in the side, and Reagan saw the dark look her sister shot him.

"Uh, welcome to Krayevsky Estate. My name is Sam, and the lovely woman beside me is Santana," the blond announced.

AJ finally reacted with a gasp, and she sneered at him before she said, "Thanks for the invitation. My name is Reagan Giovanni, and this is my brother AJ."

"Would you like to come in?" Sam asked, opening the door wider.

"No, we want to stand out here in the cold all night," she muttered under her breath.

AJ nudged her again, and Santana's hand shot forward. Reagan watched amusedly as her sister yanked AJ down to her level, and very clearly whispered something in his ear that made his skin pale noticeably. She released him, and AJ cleared his throat, trying to pretend like nothing happened.

"Right then," Sam said slowly, trying to break some of the tension. "How about you all come in and make yourselves at home?"

Reagan winced at his comment, knowing he didn't mean it in the way she interpreted it, and she removed her jacket once inside. Santana stayed behind her, and Reagan paused when she felt a hand grip the back of her dress. Sam looked at something over her shoulder, a frown on his face, but it was obvious he eventually gave in to whatever he was uncomfortable with doing once he turned to her brother and smiled tightly.

"So, AJ," he started, "how about I show you around while we wait for the other guests to arrive?"

"Cool, I love a good house tour."

Reagan refrained from slapping her brother in the back of his head for such an asinine comment and waited until the two were gone before she turned around. However, the moment she faced her sister, Santana punched her in the face. Reagan's head jerked back, but she recovered quickly and yawned to get rid of the pain in her jaw.

"And here I was thinking you would hate me," she said sarcastically.

"I don't hate you."

"You just punched me in the face!"

"You would have done the same if I had hugged you. I just cut out the middle man."

"You're ridiculous."

"Pot. Kettle."

"I'm surprised you're talking to me still," Reagan said.

"Why would you say that?" Santana asked.

"Because I stopped writing."

"I stopped caring."

"I'm torn between feeling insulted and proud at that comment."

"Of course, you are."

"Not to be a bitch, but that dress makes you look like a slut."

Santana rubbed her temples and said, "I hope you aren't this pleasant around my girlfriend because I have no intentions of cleaning blood out of the carpet tonight."

"Girlf-wait, why would you be cleaning blood out of the carpet? Do you work here?"

"Are you asking if I'm the maid?

"Yes."

"No, dumbass, I live here!"

"With your girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"Why are you and your girlfriend living at the-" Reagan stopped and her eyes widened. "Eva's your girlfriend?"

"I knew you'd catch on eventually," Santana drawled.

Reagan started laughing. "Well, fuck. I may just enjoy this dinner after all."

"The more I'm with you, the more I wonder how in the world I ever missed you."

"Again, proud and insulted."


	22. Chapter 22

**This chapter is why this story is rated M.**

 **With that said, a bit of a personal note. One, I want to wish everyone a happy holiday. I hope you get everything you asked for this Christmas, and I hope you spend it with the people you love and who you love just the same. Two, I know that beyond the happy parts, this time of year is not always a happy one, and if you ever find yourself depressed or lonely, don't hesitate to message me. I know what it's like to feel alone, and I would hate for anyone who reads my stories to feel that way. So, if you ever get lonely, bored, or just need someone to talk to, you can always message me and we can be Christmas buddies.**

 **Now, onto the story, and once again, happy holidays.**

* * *

If anyone thought dinner would be a tense affair, they would've been wrong. Laughs were shared, stories were told, jokes were quipped, and the alcohol flowed freely. Eva had her glass in hand, lost in thought, and the volume of the room acted as background noise while she tried to determine why she felt…off. There was something at the forefront of her mind, but it floated just out of reach. When Santana's laughter reached her ears, following by Sue and Xavier cracking jokes at Quinn's expense, it was as if someone encased her heart in ice. The grip she had on her glass constricted, and a sharp pain shot through her hand as the room descended into silence. She looked down, seeing blood drip onto the table, and there were pieces of glass sticking out of her palm.

"Will you excuse us please?" Santana said quietly to the group, standing up from her seat. She then gently tugged Eva out of the chair and pulled her into the kitchen, snagging a half-empty bottle of vodka on the way. Eva was moving on auto-pilot. She didn't flinch as Santana meticulously removed the large and small shards of glass from her hand, and she remained calm when her girlfriend then poured the vodka on the wounds, causing a slight sting but nothing more.

"My fathers are dead."

Santana paused in her ministrations. "I am aware," she said slowly. "What brought that about?"

"It will be Christmas in two weeks, and it will be my first one without either of them."

"Ah, the dinner became too much?" she guessed.

"Yes."

Santana cleaned the remaining blood from her hand with a wet towel and then kissed her fingertips. "I'm sorry," she said. "I wish I could make you feel better."

"Well, I think I know of a way you can help," Eva said, her mood switching so suddenly she was surprised she didn't give herself whiplash.

"Which is?"

Eva grinned and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend, uncaring about the state of her hand. She brushed her nose across Santana's cheek, and the ice around her heart slowly melted away while Santana sank into the embrace.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Hoping to steal a kiss."

"Really? You do realize you're still on punishment, right?"

"Not to be crass, but you should find yourself lucky you aren't bent over the counter while I am knuckle deep inside of you." She then kissed along the outer shell of her ear before she added in a whisper, "My self-control can only go so far."

Santana squirmed in her embrace. "Baby," she whined. "Quit it."

"But I'm only just getting started."

"Why can't you just wait until tomorrow?" she begged.

Eva looked at the clock. "Fine. But, until then," she paused and lifted Santana, placing her on the island. She stood between her legs, slipping a hand beneath her dress, and rubbed circles on her inner thigh. "Can I at least have a little fun?" she asked.

"What? No! Not now!"

"Why not?"

"Because we have guests in our house."

"Our house?"

"I mean-

"Stop," she said. "I like the way it sounds."

Santana's eyes crinkled as she smiled, and Eva felt another emotion at the forefront of her mind. She would've facepalmed if she could.

"I am a fool," she breathed out.

"Not that I disagree, but why do you say that?"

"I felt as if my holidays would be sad without my fathers, and they will be, but, and you will have to excuse me for being so sappy this late in the evening, I have you now. I have someone who cares for me, someone who loves me and protects me from others and from myself. I have someone who looks past my flaws and accepts me as a whole. My Christmas will be just fine this year because I will have the best gift I could have ever asked for, and that is having the love of my life here with me."

"I hate you so much."

"I'm not sure that constitutes as the appropriate response to what I just said."

"No, I- you-" Santana huffed and said, "I hate when you get all mushy on me because I never know what to say back. Saying I love you or you're amazing or showing you how happy you make me always seems inadequate because you go above and beyond, sometimes, to make me feel like I'm the only girl you will ever love. And though I will probably regret saying this, I'm not even sure I want a first date with you anymore. Hell, I genuinely want a ring at this point and it scares the shit out of me. Fuck, see? This is what happens when you say sweet things. I sound like a rambling fool and an idiot."

"Santana?"

"What?"

"Say you love me."

"I love you?"

"Let's try that again with some feeling behind it, shall we?" she said dryly.

"I love you."

"Good. Now, we've both established that I'm amazing, so let's skip that part and go straight to you showing me how happy I make you."

"You're lucky you're cute."

"Just cute? I think I'm more than cute. Maybe drop-dead gorgeous, beyond sexy, orgasmic to look at."

"That last one may be more accurate than the other two."

Eva raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"It is."

"Then show me."

Santana started to chew on her bottom lip as she looked back at the living room, still hesitant because of their guests, but Eva was not in the mood. Plus, she could hear Brittany and Sam distracting everyone with stories from their childhood. Deciding to put things in motion, she knew exactly what she was looking for as she subtly moved her hand between Santana's legs. Smiling, she put her hand over Santana's mouth just as she pressed down on her clit. There was a muffled yelp, and she could see Santana's resolve weakening.

"I would apologize, but I find that would only waste the precious time we have together."

She removed her hand to let Santana speak, and her girlfriend hissed, "Why would you do that? Are you trying to get us caught?"

"Trust me, that was tame compared to the things that I really want to do to you," she replied. "But now that I have your attention again, you have yet to give me an answer. I miss you, and I miss this beautiful pussy of yours. Can I please have just a little fun? I promise I won't go too far."

Santana shot her a dark look, one Eva was familiar with, and though the verbal response was lacking, Santana's actions told her all she needed to know. Her girlfriend slowly moved backward, hiking her dress as she did so, and, without breaking eye contact, she raised one leg and positioned it on Eva's shoulder.

"Do what you want to do so we can get back to the dinner," she said sharply.

"Why do you sound angry?"

"No, I'm not-" she stopped and whimpered when Eva started kissing the leg on her shoulder, but she eventually gritted out, "I'm frustrated because I couldn't last three days without needing you to touch me. You have no idea what you do to me."

"And what exactly do I do to you?"

Santana groaned and bucked her hips. "Can you not use that tone on me right now? This is supposed to be just fun, and you know what that does to me."

"What tone?"

"The one where you talk all slow and deep and fuck, can you just hurry up, please?" she whined.

Eva always did like watching Santana unravel. It was rare, but she liked it that way. Going for the final shot, she said, "I swear if we didn't have guests, I'd make you squirt all over this kitchen."

Santana's eyes darkened to the point they were nearly black, and Eva refrained from doing a little happy dance. She loved it when she won. Though they were in plain sight of the dining room entrance, where anyone could see them should they take two steps to the left, Eva didn't care. She licked two fingers and then slipped them inside of Santana, mentally congratulating her girlfriend for not moaning out loud. She kept her thrusts slow and shallow, not wanting to get caught up in the moment, and Santana's moans turned into low whines, and there was a growing sense of desperation each time she bucked her hips.

"Deeper," she pleaded.

"I can't."

"What the fuck do you mean you can't?" she growled.

"You and I both know the second I do that, then you-

Eva's words were cut off when Santana grabbed her wrist and yanked it, causing Eva to tumble forward and give Santana precisely what she wanted. Their lips were centimeters away from one another, and Eva knew that one kiss would set both of them off.

And then…

"I knew you two couldn't be trusted alone."

Santana made a sound close to a high-pitched wail and dropped her head back so she was looking at their guest upside down. "Is this payback from earlier?" she panted.

"Yep!" Brittany said. "But no, seriously, our guests are getting anxious, and I volunteered to retrieve you two. You're welcome, by the way."

Eva removed her fingers and stuck them in her mouth. She licked them clean and wiped them on her pants, lowering Santana's leg off her shoulder. "Fine. We did invite them here for a reason."

"Do you two need a moment to collect yourself?"

"Not really," she lied. "Do you, babe?"

Santana glared at her, adjusting her dress, and she said, "You are a true asshole, you know that?"

"If it makes you feel better, I feel better."

"Oh, you're right! That makes things sooo much better," she drawled sarcastically, pushing Eva back so she could stand up.

Brittany laughed. "I knew this punishment would catch up with you eventually," she teased.

"Fuck off," Santana growled.

* * *

A half hour later found only three people in the study: Eva, Reagan, and Miguel Corona.

Reagan went first. "Why should we trust that you are willingly going to hand over your birth mother when we could collect the bounty on your head and burn this place to the ground?" she asked.

"Because I find her presence as nothing more than a nuisance. I had parents, I had two loving fathers who cared for me, and I do not want her here. If that means you take her off my hands, permanently, then so be it. As for the bounty, I would highly suggest you move on from that because many, many individuals would hunt you down for the rest of your life. I have no idea who put this bounty on me or why they did so, but it is a useless endeavor. I am not my father, neither of them, and I will stop at nothing to protect the people I love."

"And Shelby is not someone you love?" Miguel asked.

"You cannot love someone you do not know."

"In my family, people who so willingly betray their blood are put to death," he said.

"Try it," she drawled. "And you will be sent back to your family in pieces."

"Is that a threat?"

"I do not make threats."

Reagan chuckled lowly, crossing her legs as she sat on the couch, and said, "I like you."

"I'm sorry. I can't say the same about you."

"I don't take it personally. I'm an acquired taste," she said. Eva's lips twitched, and Reagan felt like tossing a Molotov cocktail into the mix. "I also want Shelby," she added. "I will take her off your hands personally."

Miguel rose from his seat and said heatedly, "What! We agreed she would return to Mexico with me!"

"I changed my mind. You can call your father and tell him that the Giovanni Family has officially taken on the entirety of Shelby's debt, and you can return home empty-

handed."

"I don't agree with any of this!"

"Then you get nothing and lose your life in the process," Reagan deadpanned.

"Who are you to make this decision? You are nothing more than a bastard child whose whore of a mother conned a good man into taking care of you after she went and got herself killed!"

"I say a lot of stupid things," Eva said, breaking the tense silence that'd fallen over the room. "But even I know better than to say something as idiotic as that. If you think you're getting out of this house alive, I'm afraid you're mistaken. Because if she doesn't kill you, I will, and if I don't, there are two people out there who would take great pleasure in ending your life for disrespecting the legacy of a woman you didn't even know."

"You can't kill me! My father will-

"Celebrate your death and dance on your ashes!" Reagan snapped. "You and your brother spent your entire inheritance on women and foreign cars. You stuck your grubby little hands into this deal because you thought you would get something out of it. Why? Probably because you pilfered some of your father's money and you needed to pay him back before he noticed. My father, however, felt sorry for you and agreed to have you provide the supplies for the drug **we** sell. Unfortunately for you, he sent me here to get this taken care of by any means necessary, and right now, you are an obstacle keeping me from making that happen."

Miguel shouted something in Spanish and Reagan was too busy looking at the weapon he was pulling out of his pocket, but before he could get a shot off, a bat came down on his head, and he crumpled to the floor. Eva stepped over the body and walked to the drink cabinet where she removed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

"I'm afraid I don't have ice," she said, coming to sit on the couch.

"It's fine. I'm not in the mood for cold whiskey."

"Good."

Eva passed her a glass and poured a healthy amount, doing the same for herself. She sighed and leaned back against the leather, her arm resting comfortably behind Reagan's head. The position would be intimate if there wasn't the whole 'she was dating her sister' thing involved.

"I have a stipulation I would like to add," she said.

"Oh? And what is that?"

"I sign her over to you formally, but she does not leave this house alive."

Reagan clinked her glass against Eva's. "Deal, but she will not be the only person to die tonight," she warned.

"Oh? Who else did you have in mind?"

"Do you have any small blades?"

Eva smiled and took a sip of her drink before she murmured, "I may have a couple lying around somewhere."

"Wonderful. I'm going to need six blades, two spoons, a bottle of hot sauce, and a sheet you can easily replace."

"You're going to Tabasco them?" Eva asked curiously.

Reagan fake-swooned and said, "If you weren't dating my sister, I would fuck your brains out right now."

Eva laughed loudly and stood up from the couch. "Come, I will show you to Shelby," she said, still giggling.

"What about the unconscious body lying near your fireplace?"

"Unconscious? To me, it seems as if he is taking a nap."

"This might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"And that terrifies me."

"It should."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: To the guest reviewer who said I have a serious issue with hating women, I would like to know what made you think that about me. One, so that I can change it if it is indeed a situation where I've given you that impression, and two so that I can rectify that for the future. I'm the last person in the world who could - should - be considered a woman-hater. I happen to be someone who loves women and loves watching women succeed in all that they do. So, again, if you would be so kind as to message me or comment on the story why you feel this way, then maybe we can fix this problem together.**

 **With that out of the way, I would like to point out that this is a dark story and there will be graphic scenes. I try to balance it out, but there will be moments where I describe something that may or may not be something you're fond of. Please keep that in mind.**

 **Mistakes are mine. Nothing else is**.

* * *

Brittany didn't react when Eva and Reagan came out alone. She died, however, notice the body lying on the floor of the study, as did everyone else. The other Corona representative, Cristofer, reacted faster than she anticipated, but Puck was faster, and he barely hesitated to knock the man out when he went to attack Eva. The group stared in silence, and Santana spoke first.

"Wanna tell us what's going on?" she asked warily.

"Nothing, just taking Miss Giovanni down to the basement to have a chat with tonight's guest of honor."

Brittany watched the way Reagan winked at Eva before she said, "Miss Giovanni is what my enemies call me. You can call Ray."

"And you can call me Eva."

"Is that all I can call you?"

"Well-

"Nope. Hell no!" Santana said quickly. She came over and pushed Reagan toward the direction of the basement, keeping herself between the other two at all times.

Brittany had no idea what was going on, how Santana knew the other girl, but she was patient enough to find out. Quinn, however, was not, and Brittany pinched the bridge of her nose when Quinn rushed after the trio.

"Should we join them down there?" Puck asked.

"No, not you and Sam. Let me go with them, and hopefully nothing goes too wrong."

"When you say too wrong-

"At this point, I would take serious injury over a massacre."

"Who's getting massacred?" Sam asked, coming over to stand behind Puck.

"Ten bucks it's the Corona boys," Puck said.

"Actually," Sam looked around and lowered his voice, "if you say the way Santana stared at the Italian boy when we met them at the door, I wager he's going to die tonight too."

"No way! Definitely the Corona boys."

Brittany rolled her eyes and walked off, leaving the two of them to gamble on who dies first that night. She managed to catch up with the other four, still studying the interaction between Reagan, Eva, and Santana, and she caught Quinn's eye over their shoulder.

"What the fuck?" Quinn mouthed.

She shrugged and mouthed back, "Who knows?"

The five of them walked down the basement stairs, three arguing over something in Italian, while Brittany and Quinn hissed their own questions to one another with as little words as possible. When they got to the bottom, a metal pipe swung towards Eva's head. She managed to duck, but the pipe caught the side of Santana's head, and she crumpled to the floor, her muffled screams echoing in the space.

* * *

Reagan froze at the sight of her sister lying on the floor. She went through several emotions. Fear. Guilt. Pain. Disbelief. And finally, rage.

"You are fortunate I am not the one in control because I promise you the amount of pain I would put you through would make you WISH I'd killed you for what you've just done to my sister," she growled.

There was a gasp, and she turned to the side. The two blondes were staring between her and Santana, and she bared her teeth at them but said nothing. There was a shadow in the corner of her eye, and she spun quickly, catching the pipe with her hand. She ripped it from the woman and tested its weight. "This will do," she muttered before she swung. It connected with Shelby's stomach and the older woman hunched over, wheezing. Reagan tossed the pipe to the side out of everyone's reach and wiped her hands on her dress.

"Who are you? Why are you here? Who attacked me?" Shelby panted.

"Does any of that matter at this point?" Reagan replied.

"It does to me!"

"You just attacked my sister while trying to attack your own daughter, and you think you deserve answers? Does that seem right to you?"

Shelby had a crazed look in her eyes as she pointed at Eva. "She attacked me first! It was self-defense!" she screeched.

Eva barely took her eyes away from Santana as she said from the floor, "I should have snapped your neck, but I didn't, so you should find yourself lucky."

"Why? I'm your mother!"

Eva stood up, and Reagan could see the amount of effort it was taking to stay calm on Eva's part. She turned slowly and spoke with such a quiet voice that it sent shivers down Reagan's spine, "You ask me why? I can give you many reasons. Reason one, how about the fact you only decided to have a relationship with me AFTER you learned I had money? Two, you ABANDONED me when I was barely two days old because you didn't want the commitment, so not only are you not my mother, but I have no real reason to care about what happens to you because I don't know you. Three, you never showed up to EITHER of my fathers' funerals, which would've been the perfect time to establish some sort of relationship with me. And four, you have been a non-factor in my life for years, and you show up out of the blue because you have a drug habit that you need to pay off. And you have the nerve to ask me why I should give two fucks about you?"

There was a brief moment Reagan thought Eva had gotten through to Shelby, but she was wrong. Shelby scowled, and the change was immediate.

"I would've never signed the papers had I known Hiram was rich. I got pregnant because I got drunk and laid down with a man who didn't even find me attractive. My life was hell because of you. I lost my job, I lost my family, and I lost my damn mind trying to prepare for a child I didn't even want, so I gave you away. Of course, that didn't make my life any better. I couldn't hold down a job, got hooked on drugs, and my life went to shit. Then, I manage to find an excellent paying job where I could start over, and like a godsend, your name pops up in our system! To think, I've been struggling my entire life and I find out my child, my only child is pretty much swimming in millions of dollars. You were supposed to miss me, want to help me, but all you've done is pawn me off on all your friends without giving me a moment of time. All I wanted was some help! I gave you LIFE!"

"That means nothing to me."

"You don't mean that," Shelby said.

Reagan studied the nerves in Eva's neck, the muscles in her jaw clench with every breath, and stepped back. Santana crawled to her feet, and Reagan automatically wrapped an arm around her to keep her steady and upright. There was a little blood, nothing too serious, and she whispered, "You okay?"

"Jus' a headache. Nothin' new."

"You've been hit in the head before? Do I need to be worried about this relationship you share with Eva? It doesn't seem too healthy."

Santana pinched Reagan in the hip, but the conversation shifted when Eva started laughing with tears streaming down her face.

"You think you can come into my house and question me? Tell me what I can and cannot do? Tell me what I do and do not mean? Who do you think you are?"

"Your mother!" Shelby shouted.

"Enough of this."

Reagan, knowing an entrance when she heard one, passed Santana to Eva. A look passed between the two of them, some sort of understanding, and Reagan knew she wasn't going back to Italy. She pushed that thought to the back of her mind and smiled falsely at Shelby.

"You asked earlier who I was, well, my name is Reagan Giovanni. Introductions are not needed on your end because I know exactly who you are. I also know you owe my family a large amount of money."

"G-Giovanni?" Shelby repeated. "You're his daughter?"

"I guess."

"You guess? How-

"Is that really important right now?" Reagan sighed. "I am here to determine whether you have the money or not. Do you?"

"I can get it," she blurted. "I just need a little time."

"Time? You've had years to pay us back."

"I've just been busy."

"Okay. So, what can we do to make this proceed without bloodshed?"

"Just let me go home, and I'll have the money to you by next Friday."

"Go home? To New York? You want us to trust you to get on a plane and not vanish again?"

"Yes. I swear I'll have the money to you by next Friday."

Reagan hummed and clasped her hands behind her back. "One of my biggest pet peeves is that I despise liars. Are you lying to me?" she asked.

"N-no."

"Okay."

"Really?"

"Hell no. I'm not an idiot."

Shelby stuttered her way through another explanation, but Reagan, like Eva, had grown tired of the run-around. She bent down, running her hand up her thigh, and she removed the pistol from her holster. Guns were messy, made a lot of noise, and often made her feel barbaric, but she would make an exception for Shelby.

Once she saw the gun, the woman dropped to her knees and started crying. "No, please! Please give me a little more time!"

"Why?" Reagan asked.

"What?"

"Tell me why I should grant your request."

Shelby looked around the room, searching for a reason, and then her eyes landed on Eva. "I know you think I'm not worth it, but if there is a forgiving bone in your body, help me," she begged.

"Not that I did it for you, but I've already paid off your debt," Eva said blandly. "I paid Angel Giovanni last night."

"YOU WHAT!?" Reagan and Santana said simultaneously.

"What was confusing about that statement?"

"You paid my father off last night? Why didn't he-

"Because she is still a loose end and he knows how much you hate loose ends."

"Fair point," Reagan conceded.

"But why would YOU pay off that debt?" Santana asked roughly.

"Because I would not have wanted it to come back and bite me in the ass. Shelby dying would not have given him the money. He would've still been millions of dollars out, and I would not have put it past him to approach me in the future because of some distant relation I have to her. It was a business decision that will benefit us in the long run."

Reagan couldn't fault the logic in that. Shrugging, Reagan shot Shelby, and the woman fell back with a hole in her shoulder.

"You missed," Santana pointed out.

"Did I?"

"She's still alive."

"Oh, yes, but that's because Eva and I have another plan in place that needs to be enacted before that happens."

"You and Eva? That's a new one."

Reagan rolled her eyes and returned her pistol to its hiding spot. She brushed something off her dress and said to Eva, "Those items I asked you for earlier, can I have them now?"

"Sure. And the people you plan to use them on?"

"Hopefully in a better mood."

"Do I even want to know?" Santana sighed.

Reagan and Eva both said, "Probably not."

* * *

Brittany and Quinn glanced at one another, both still reeling from the fact Santana had a sister, but they kept quiet. They silently agreed not to tell Puck or Sam, or anyone else for that matter, and they willingly went along with whatever was needed of them. It wasn't until they were sent off to grab the blades Reagan wanted did they react.

"Holy fuck, can you believe Santana has a sister?" Quinn hissed, looking around to make sure they were alone.

Brittany nodded slowly. "And she's insane," she said.

"Well, insanity is relative," Quinn muttered. "She's just a little off."

"A little?" she exclaimed.

"Yeah. I think Eva takes the cake when it comes to who's insane in this house."

"I mean," Brittany paused and unlocked the knife cabinet, I'll give you that one," she said.

"Thanks," Quinn deadpanned. "Means a lot."

Brittany ignored her and opened the box on the bottom shelf, only to find it empty, and she frowned. "Interesting," she said.

"What?" Quinn asked, but before Brittany could respond, Puck and Sam came into the armory arguing about something. They stopped when they saw the two of them already in the room.

"What are you doing in here?" Puck asked.

"I can ask you the same thing," Quinn said.

"Eva sent us in here to look for some special gun. You?"

"She-

"Had we known there was a party in here we would've brought drinks," Xavier said, announcing he and Sue's presence. The six of them met in the middle of the room, each one wearing the same confused frown, and that's when a weird feeling settled in Brittany's chest.

"If we're all up here, then who is left downstairs?" she asked.

"I have no idea. Eva was sending random people off to do things, send them to grab items from different parts of the house, and-

The group of six jumped as the door slammed shut behind them. There was a clicking sound, and Sam needlessly jiggled the door handle.

"Please tell me we aren't locked in here," Quinn groaned.

"Okay, I won't tell you we're definitely locked in here," he replied somberly.

"What the hell is going on? I know you two know something," Sue gritted out.

"Yeah, why does it feel like we're out of the loop?" Sam asked.

Quinn and Brittany shared a look, and they both came to the same conclusion.

"Look, we don't have all the facts, but we'll tell you what happened downstairs…"

* * *

Santana leaned against the doorframe of the study, trying hard not to give in to the exhaustion creeping through her veins, but she was more than aware of the four people tied to chairs in front of her.

One which she still couldn't explain.

"Dad should've never agreed to raise you!"

Oh, she thought. That explained it. She saw Reagan flinch, and she knew that one penetrated deep.

"There he is, the real Angel Giovanni Junior," Reagan said. "I knew you weren't all too thrilled with having me around."

"You took my inheritance from me!"

"No, you did that when you fucked a rival's daughter, got her pregnant, and then married her."

"I love her."

"No, you don't. You wanted your dick sucked so bad that you didn't care who did it. Too bad you didn't use protection. Could've saved us all a lot of trouble."

"Fuck you! You're insane!"

"So you've said before."

"You can't possibly think Dad will be okay with this!"

"All I have to do is play a little role, tell Dad one of the Corona boys killed you, and they can fight it out. Long as you die, I don't really care."

"You're seriously going to kill me?" AJ exclaimed. "After everything?"

Reagan narrowed her eyes. "You mean after you took credit for all of my accomplishments? Every person I killed, every debt I settled, and every threat I neutralized, you took credit for it all! You never let me forget that my mother is dead, you treat me like a second-hand child, and you never have my back with the other family members! You say nice things, but I know what you say about me behind my back! I see how you look at me when you think I'm not paying any attention. You make me feel like I'm worthless on your best days and a piece of shit on your worst! How can you ask me if I'm serious about killing you?"

"I wish you'd died in Dublin. If you had stuck to the plan, I would've been done with you."

"That was you?" Reagan asked.

There was a weird look on her face Santana couldn't read, but she knew the hurt in her sister's voice touched some deeper part of her heart that she tried to keep hidden. She and Reagan weren't close, but they were still sisters. She didn't know what possessed her to do so, but she pushed off the frame and grabbed a fire poker from the mantle.

"Of course, it was me! Who else could have timed that explosion just as you were walking in? We were the only ones there! No one else knew we would be in that building."

"You tried to blow me up? Over some money?"

"It was more than that! You ruined my life! Dad should've left you in the gutter where you-

Santana had enough. Blood splattered on the walls and on her face, on her clothes, and she wiped it away with a grimace. The fire poker protruded from Angel's head, nearly going straight through, and a beat passed before Eva sighed.

"That is going to be so hard to clean out of the carpet."


	24. Chapter 24

**Mistakes are mine.**

 **Happy New Years, folks**!

* * *

Santana sat in Eva's lap, using her arm as a prop as she got comfortable, while they waited for Reagan to finish whatever she was doing. All Santana knew was that it involved hot sauce and spoons, and she found that she didn't want to know. Instead, she took advantage of the moment and said, "Tell me about the Collective."

"Haven't we already had this conversation?"

"You mentioned before, back at the bar, but we haven't really had a chance to actually talk about it. Like where are they? Did they disband after your Dad died? Are they waiting for you to take over?"

Eva shifted, her hand coming up to subconsciously rub at her neck, and she said, "The truth is the Collective can never really disband. It's a larger organization than most people think, and just because my Dad died doesn't mean they've gone underground. They're still active, still doing jobs, but they're relying on the leadership of someone else. My Dad put in a failsafe to ensure that in his absence, the Collective would continue to run as it was when he was alive. Different leaders are chosen in their own regions to control the members who operate out of those specified states. For example, the leader of the Southern Region is someone named Mr. F, and no, I don't know his real name. He is the spearhead for the region which includes Florida, Georgia, the Carolinas, Tennessee, Virginia, Alabama, Texas, Louisiana, and Mississippi with parts of Arkansas."

"I see. Why parts of Arkansas?"

"There was a dispute on whether it was technically apart of the Midwest, so to avoid bloodshed, Dad just split it across the middle. Half is in the Midwest Region while the other half is in the Southern Region."

"What about Kentucky?"

"It's a neutral meeting point for the Northern, Midwestern, and Southern Regions. Kind of a place where they get together, throw parties, network, stuff like that."

Santana couldn't fault the logic in keeping everything separate, but surely it didn't work that way for the rest of the world. "Okay, so is it like that internationally?" she asked.

"Um, no. The Collective in the States is different, unfortunately."

"How so? And why do you say 'unfortunately?'"

"Outside of the United States, the Collective is a brotherhood, almost. This means that Columbians can operate in Brazil without checking in, Russians in England, South Africans in Australia, so on and so forth. In the US, if someone from California were doing a job in New York without letting someone know they were doing so, it would result in a million-dollar fine and the death of the Collective operative."

Santana whistled and started running her fingers through Eva's hair. "That's a hefty price to pay for one person," she said.

Eva shrugged. "You can say that, but considering what these people do for a living, it's not really that big of a deal. A million is chump change to some of these people and losing one operative only means you have the opportunity of getting another."

"That's a callous way of thinking about it."

"Realistic, not callous," Eva corrected.

"Whatever. You never answered my other question. Are you planning on following in your Father's footsteps?"

"You never asked me that."

"It was implied."

Eva snorted, but it was obvious the question bothered her. She kept rubbing the tattoo on her neck with a faraway look in her eyes, and Santana was afraid that she may have pushed too far.

"I want too, yes," she eventually answered. "But I don't think it will be a good idea."

"Why?"

"Because I would never be here, Koroleva. I would be flying all over the country, all over the world, for the rest of my life. I would rarely be here with you and my family, and it would put me under so many different government watchlists that even if you were with me, we'd be living under a microscope for the rest of our lives."

"So I do have an option of coming with you?"

"Did you miss everything I said after 'even if you were with me?'"

Santana sighed and threw her leg over Eva's waist, straddling her for the sole purpose of looking her in the eyes when she said, "You're thinking in the context of it being you, your Dad, and your Daddy. We know both of your fathers were men with questionable jobs and even more questionable habits, but it was essentially just the three of you. It's not just the two of us, baby. Yes, we are a couple, but we have a group of people who would die before they let us jet off across the country or the world without bringing them along. Whose to say you can't turn the Collective into your World Court?"

She frowned. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"So, you're the Ace, correct?" When Eva nodded, Santana continued, "Sam is your 'King,' Brittany is your 'Ten,' Puck is your 'Joker,' and I am your 'Queen.' When you factor in Sue, Xavier, the guards, the bikers, and whoever else joins this merry band of psychopaths, then you have yourself an entire kingdom. You have your Ambassadors, your Knights, your main Court, and then you would technically take the place of the King."

"I-

"And think of it this way, we can leave here over Christmas break and put an end to this bounty nonsense, which I haven't forgotten about. We can cover up all the loose ends and start an entirely new organization with the foundation your Dad built."

"Yeah, but-

"Just imagine what we could do if there were one main American Collective. It would be way more economical, and you can-

"Baby," Eva interrupted. "Can I talk?"

Santana blushed. "Sorry," she said.

"I was only going to tell you that I think your idea has merit and that we should talk about it as a group instead of us deciding for everyone else. I don't think Xavier's men would want to stick around that long, and we would have to double-check with Sam's parents, your Dad, Noah's Dad, and Sue."

"Wait, what about Brittany's parents?"

"Why would we…" Eva trailed off and closed her eyes, dropping her head to the back of the couch with a heavy sigh. "She didn't tell you, did she?" she asked softly.

"Tell me what?"

* * *

The door to the armory opened, and Brittany's head snapped up as Santana strolled in casually. A little too casually. The others said nothing as Santana walked straight up to Brittany….and wrapped her in a hug. But it wasn't the comforting type of hug, it was constricting, and Brittany felt like Santana was trying to suffocate her.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me about your parents?" she whispered in her ear.

Brittany grunted and waved out the others. When they were gone, she peeled herself away from Santana and said, "Did Eva tell you?"

"Not off the bat. We were discussing something else when the topic came up."

"I didn't want a lot of people to know."

"Know that your parents abandoned you and you've been living here ever since? I can see that, but why not tell me? And why did you make me think you were just spending the night?"

"I think after the first month you would've noticed something was off. And I wasn't exactly thrilled with having to tell anyone that. I only told Eva because I needed a place to stay. Sam found out because he lives here too, and Sue promised to keep it a secret for me. She signs all my paperwork for school, Warren signs off on other stuff, and Michelle Evans handles my finances. I saw how they treated Eva for having two Dads. I was already the dumb blonde, imagine the jokes and rumors that would spread if people discovered my parents cleaned out our house and left a note that said, 'We're Sorry.'"

Santana smiled grimly and sat down on the floor in front of her. "I can understand that, and I do. I just…I'm angry that I never realized it. The sleepovers stopped, the random invites over your house stopped, and you always had an excuse for where they were whenever we had a Glee performance. I thought they were just busy."

"Doubt it. The two never wanted my sister or me, but somehow my sister was invited to go with them, and I was left here, alone, and I will never understand how a parent could do that."

"Do you know where they are?"

"Mexico was the last time they'd popped up on the radar. I remember six months ago Dad bought himself a new boat and named it Sparkles, which is what he used to call me. I had Eva pay a guy in Puerto Vallarta to track the yacht down and set it on fire."

Santana nodded but changed the subject as she said, "I'm sorry I ambushed you like that, but I was a little thrown off that Eva knew, and I didn't."

"Nah, you're good. Just don't tell Puck or Quinn yet alright?"

"I won't. Promise."

Brittany waited a moment before she reared back and punched Santana in the shoulder. She jumped up and pointed a finger in her face. "The next time you two idiots lock me in a room without telling me what the hell is going on I'll pour all the liquor down the drain," she threatened.

Santana blinked, still massaging her shoulder, and she muttered, "Has anyone ever told you that you're slightly psychotic?"

"Nope!" she said happily, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Now, will you kindly tell me what the fuck is going on?"

* * *

Eva heard the different sets of footsteps coming down the stairs, and she hurried back into the study, locking the door. Santana would possibly hate her for leaving her to deal with all of them, but she would get over it. Her phone vibrated, and Eva hummed as she read the message from Tina:

 **Police have no leads on Abrams' case. Will keep you updated.**

"You pass me that spoon, please?"

Eva looked up, seeing the spoon in question, and she dry-heaved. "Is-is that an eyeball?" she wheezed.

"What did you think the spoon was for?"

"Not the removal of an eyeball!"

"Are you going to pass it to me or not?" Reagan huffed.

Eva cringed as she picked up the flat end, trying hard not to stare at the body part, and when she passed it over, Reagan chuckled and threw it into the fire.

"I'm surprised you didn't ask whose eyeball it was."

"Don't wanna know."

"You sure?"

"Yes," she hissed.

Reagan shrugged and wiped her hands on an already bloodied towel. "I'm done. The bodies have been taken care of, and I've made as little mess as possible," she said.

Eva looked around the study, seeing several different blood stains, and she said, "I literally just went to the bathroom and came back. Five minutes tops, and you've made this much of a mess? How?"

"You were too busy eye-fucking my sister to realize it."

"Don't say eye."

"So you admit you were vision fucking my sister?"

"Must you be so crude?"

"Yes, it's in my DNA. Answer the question."

"I'm always thinking about fucking your sister. Have you seen her?"

Reagan frowned and hiked up her dress as she stepped over the bodies. "Are you asking me if I can understand why you imagine my sister naked?" she asked.

Eva ignored her question and held out her hand, helping Reagan stay balanced as she walked through the maze of limbs, bones, and-

"Please tell me that is not an ear."

"Okay, it's not an ear."

"What was the purpose of giving you the sheet if you weren't going to use it?!"

"I did use it. I wrapped Shelby in it as a belated birthday gift for Angel."

"And what about your brother?"

"Ashes to ashes."

"Miguel?"

"Chopped, diced, and sliced."

"His brother?"

"I hear you guys have a few coyotes and wild creatures here in Ohio. Must be hard for them to find food in the winter."

"And my study?"

"It was dirty when I got here."

"You're going to be a problem for me, aren't you?"

Reagan shrugged. "I'm the other version of Santana she likes to keep hidden, so, take that how you want."

"Moving on, what's next?"

"We get some guys to drive the Corona guy out deep into the woods, and then we talk about the Collective." Eva glared at her and Reagan held up her hands. "You two can't whisper. I've always wondered what happened to the guy in charge. Did not know he had a kid or a husband. Guess that means I should renew my organization membership, right? Since we're practically family," she said.

"Wait, you're in the Collective?"

"Duh. I'm one of the best Italian hitwomen in the country and one of the best in the world."

"I've never heard of you."

"Probably because I don't have a real name. Just an email and an account number. Names are overrated."

"Yeah, you're definitely going to be a problem."

"Thanks, that's so sweet."

"Fuck off," Eva sighed. "And come on, I have a group of angry people waiting to skin me alive."

"Kinky."


	25. Chapter 25

**Alright, you guys! Think of this as the end of "Lima."**

* * *

 ** _Hello,_**

 ** _Contrary to popular belief, the Collective is not one of those groups with a long, rich, crazy history nor did it begin with one man or one family. It's this group of men and women who hail from different countries, different states, and different cultures who are so good at what they do that they were often ostracized by not only their organization but from nearly every organization they came across. Many feared their talents could go both ways, and there was a lack of trust spreading amongst the higher ranks. My father was one of those people. I know little about his past, just as I know little about my Dad's past in Russia, but I knew enough to determine both grew up in households with ties to some of the most dangerous families ever recorded in history._**

 ** _The Krayevsky family aligned themselves with the type of people you try to avoid, not befriend. As for the Berry family, well, Leroy lost his parents at a young age, and he grew up with his uncle. I think some of you might know him as the Acid Killer from Kansas City. His uncle murdered sixteen women and fourteen men in ten years with a single vat of acid. All he left behind were their bones and a half-burned license that allowed families to get closure on their loved ones. However, what most don't know is the last three victims were not killed by the same person. Years' of watching his uncle murder innocent victims warped my father's mind, and he soon joined his uncle on a lot of his sprees._**

 ** _When his uncle died of a heart attack, Leroy ran away, and from then on, the trail goes cold until he re-appears twenty years later as the leader and founder of the Collective._**

 ** _Like I said before, the Collective is more like an all-star game. It's the best of the best in one arena. There are individuals from the Yakuza, from the 'Ndrangheta, from the Camorra, and yes, even from several cartels including the Sinaloa Cartel in Mexico. There are snipers, drug runners, gun runners, mercenaries, chemists, bomb experts, hand-to-hand specialists, and there are tons of others who are capable of going above and beyond in their field. You need a man to mysteriously die of the black plague? Five people can make that happen. You need your wife or husband to get arrested for a murder they did not commit? Twenty people can make that happen and make it seem like the perfect crime. Need a weapon that's illegal in fifty states, ten countries, and fourteen provinces? There are a hundred different smugglers who could have it for you in less than twenty-four hours. It is not the type of organization that needs a leader or a protector, as they are unique pieces operating in the same entity. With that said, however, a problem will arise if a leader is not chosen._**

 _ **If there is a belief that the Collective is up for grabs, then many will try to gain control, and it will cause a discord that will shake not only the criminal underground but also the world. Legally, I could argue that I am the best and only choice for the job, but since I am related to Leroy through marriage, I will have a problem in doing so. But I was convinced by my family that it is the best option for everyone involved.**_

 _ **I know of the bounty on my head, and I do not believe that this bounty is retaliation, but rather a preemptive strike to keep me from following in my father's footsteps. Something I do not appreciate. The issue I now face requires more than what I have, and I am in desperate need of help. If you are willing, able, and ready to follow me into Hell itself, then I ask that you come to the address listed at the bottom of this message no later than Friday evening. If you are not interested, then so be it. However, I am not one to make idle threats, and if you relay any of this information to someone who wishes to do me or my family harm, I will ensure that you die a slow and painful death.**_

 _ **The day is coming where you will not be able to avoid this. People will die, people you love will die, and you will be left with only two choices: fight or die with them. I have seen too much death in my lifetime, and I refuse to see it anymore unless it is by my hand and my enemy falls at my feet. You are someone I feel I can trust, and if I am wrong, then I pray the Lord to have mercy on my soul as well as yours because nothing short of the hand of God will stop me from hunting you down and ripping the skin from your bones.**_

 _ **Remember these two things as you consider my offer:**_

 _ **There is no turning back.**_

 _ **We will not hesitate to do what needs to be done.**_

 _ **I hope to see you soon.**_

 _ **Sincerely,**_

 _ **Eva Krayevsky-Berry.**_

* * *

At approximately one p.m. Monday afternoon, a massive explosion rocked the small town of Lima, Ohio. Police, firefighters, and EMTs alike rushed to the scene, only to discover a leveled house with scorched Earth as far as their eyes could see. They would find unidentifiable bodies amongst the rubble, but nothing else.

* * *

At approximately seven p.m. Monday evening, certain, gossip-hungry students would point out to the police that seven teenagers were not in attendance that day at school:

Tina Cohen-Chang

Samuel Evans

Brittany Pierce

Noah Puckerman

Quinn Fabray

Santana Lopez

Rachel* Berry

The detective in charge would soon note later that night that the bodies they found at the explosion site matched the DNA of the students listed as absent as well as their families.

* * *

Three days later, thousands of miles away, an Italian crime lord would receive a strange package in the mail. He would have someone open it, test the strange dust sprinkled along the bloodied sheet-wrapped body found inside, and his cries of sorrow would reach the far ends of his home and the ears of his beloved wife.

He would mourn the death of his only son, and not once would he think of his daughter.

* * *

At the same time in a small coastal town in Mexico, a father would ignore the body parts of his son and order his men to dump the remains in the ocean for the sharks to feast. He would stare at his wife, ask her if she would mourn, and his wife would merely shake her head and go back to lying in the sun.

* * *

On Friday evening at eight p.m., the doors to a luscious mansion in Miami, Florida would open, and a young girl dressed in a long, flowing red dress with jet black hair and tattoos all over her body would greet her guests as they entered her home. She would smile, shake hands, and laugh as they asked for her name.

"Eva," she would say. "My name is Eva. Welcome to Kosmetika, my friend."


	26. Chapter 26

**A massive, massive time jump here folks. Well, not that massive, but more than a few months. Things are different for the group, and then again, some things haven't changed. I tried to keep this one as light-hearted as possible, but I wouldn't be me if there wasn't a little bit of drama.**

 **Mistakes are mine.**

 **Let's get Part Two going**!

* * *

Eva lit her second cigarette of the morning as she relaxed on the balcony. She hummed under her breath, watching the sunrise on the horizon, and smiled to herself. Her mood was one of contentment. One of the main reasons she loved about being in charge was the power rush that came with it and having experienced it in full, it was addicting.

Seven months ago, she'd hosted a party in her new home in Miami. It went about as bad as she expected it to. Though they followed the instructions on her letter, those who showed up still operated under the belief they were in charge, and she took great pleasure in providing clarity. Of course, the aftermath meant separating her family for the time being, but they agreed on the plan, and they went through with it. Plus, they each went with their own guard, their personal protection, and their own failsafe should someone try to take them out before their time.

Noah and Sam had the most issues, but that's why she put them in the Northwestern and Northern Regions respectively. Her Kings were doing exactly what she wanted them to, and so far, it was a success. The Collective was back to its discriminating ways and demanded payment when required and not when available. She didn't even think her father realized the amount of debt they were incurring with other organizations due to 'friendly favors' being passed around like a collection plate at church.

Xavier was having a ball with the Southern Region, and since most of his bikers were from the south, they were allowed to go home whenever they wanted and see their family because of their new status. Going from Blood Serpents to Reserve Collective members saw both a bump in their pay and their rank amongst the other black-blooded men and women they ran into.

Sue seemed to be enjoying her Southwestern assignment if the tan she was sporting had anything to say about it, and surprisingly enough, Brittany was whipping the Midwest into shape faster than she anticipated. The blue-collared, hard-minded, rough-necked men and women Brittany ordered around practically re-wrote the rules on hand-to-hand combat, and they were dangerous to train, profitable to employ.

Though, their growing success probably jumpstarted after the body parts Eva shipped off with her people arrived. Coming into the HQ and seeing the head of your former leader resting in the middle of the room should and did put things into perspective. Plus, the note Eva attached might've helped:

 _Consider this a Royal Flush._

 _Follow my rules, get paid, and develop a reputation that can't be erased._

 _Disobey my rules, lose your life, and have your name dragged through dirt, mud, and blood for eternity._

 _You choose._

 _P.s., The Collective is no longer up for grabs._

 _I dare you to take it from me,_

 _E.K.B._

After that, it was only a matter of revamping the organization's reputation and growing from the changes. Debts were paid off, whether in blood or cash, and they were finally out of the red and into the green. Literally and figuratively.

Her mood tripled when she realized that she would be seeing her family at the neutral ground in two days. She missed them. Having Kosmetika was fine and dandy, but it was mostly empty. With Reagan off doing odd jobs here and there across the world, keeping to the shadows, only Taylor and Stone were there with her, Santana, Tina, and Quinn. It was calm, thankfully so, but she was looking forward to having the entire gang back together.

Taking another drag of her cigarette, Eva exhaled through her nose just as the door creaked open. Without turning around, she said, "And to think I was having such a peaceful morning."

Santana smacked her on the back of the head, causing Eva to grin, and she slid onto her lap as she said, "Normally I'd threaten to withhold sex for such a stupid comment, but I think you get off on that shit. So, I'll just threaten to tie you down and make you watch."

"Make me watch what?"

"Me and Quinn having a round or two."

Eva pouted and placed a hand over her heart. "Ouch, baby. That one hurt," she said.

"It was supposed to," Santana drawled.

"Mhm. Did you sleep okay?"

The question, as odd as it sounded and as abrupt as it was asked, was a valid worry for Eva. Santana's nightmares were getting worse, and she would never know about them until the morning after.

"I didn't have one last night."

"Good. So, the medication is working?"

Santana nodded and snatched the cigarette from her hand, stomping it out on the ground. "I hate when you smoke these things," she grumbled.

"How come you always take mine but never take Quinn's?" Eva whined.

"Because I have to kiss you, not her, dumbass, and I don't like it when you taste like tobacco. It's a turn-off."

"Out of everything I do, my smoking is the turn-off?"

Santana scrunched her face, and said, "Most of the things you do are because of what you do for a living. Smoking is a dirty habit that you purposely picked up because you thought it made you look cool."

"I did not!"

"Yes, you did," Santana deadpanned.

Eva puffed out her cheeks and blew out into Santana's face. She received a slap for her actions, but it was worth it.

"You're lucky you're cute," Santana said.

"You're lucky you're a good fuck."

Another slap, but still very much so worth it. Santana turned around, her eyes roving over the bay where boats and ships were passing through in the distance, and Eva couldn't help but smile. A simple change of scenery, coupled with a change of lifestyle, turned their relationship into something more than what it was. They were no longer worrying that someone would see something they weren't supposed to see, hear something they weren't supposed to hear, or just the lack of privacy to develop their relationship.

They went on dates, they communicated better, and they were learning more about one another as time went on. The only dark side was that as they grew accustomed to Miami, Miami grew accustomed to them, and sometimes it wasn't friendly. Santana's nightmares stemmed from two weeks prior when Eva was clipped by a bullet during a robbery. She was only in the store to grab some beer for their movie night and was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Taylor saw it too late, and Stone was outside with the girls. It barely grazed her hip, but Santana's viewpoint during the event made it look much worse than what it was, and it took Stone, Tina, and Quinn all holding her back while Taylor shot the men responsible.

Bribes were made to erase the footage of Eva ever being there, and they fed the owner a bullshit story before they ran out of there. Santana kept replaying the same shot, the same image of Eva falling backward, but the bullet was never in the same spot. It was either in her stomach, and she bled out, in her chest and pierced her heart, or in the head. It'd gotten to the point that Santana had to start taking sleeping pills just to get through the night.

It was a thin line.

In Miami, people with a secret were more dangerous than people without, and Eva was starting to realize that everyone in Miami had a secret.

Fingers brushed against her wound, and she absentmindedly grabbed the hand tracing the scar. Santana's head snapped up, and Eva brought the hand to her lips. She kissed her knuckles and used her free hand to cup Santana's cheek. "I'm okay," she promised softly.

"I know. I needed to get your attention. I've been calling your name for the last few minutes."

"Oh, I apologize."

"It's fine. I only wanted to know if you had plans for breakfast."

"I thought we were going out today?"

"Yes, but, I mean, if you wanted to eat here, that's fine too," Santana said quickly.

Eva narrowed her eyes and asked, "Do you want to eat here?"

Santana blushed and stammered, "Yes, I mean, no, well, we don't have- if you want to eat here-

"Why are you so nervous?"

"Huh?"

"You're shaking, and you won't look me in the eyes. What's going on?"

Santana's mouth opened, but Quinn stepped outside, and Santana deflated in obvious relief. Her girlfriend slipped off her lap and vanished inside, and Quinn shuffled back and forth awkwardly when Eva glared at her.

"Sorry. I guess I came at a bad time?"

Eva flicked her lighter at Quinn, the girl yelping as it came flying at her head, and she hissed, "No shit. You have the worst timing in the world."

"Well, I thought she-

Quinn's mouth clamped shut, and like Santana, she hurried back inside, leaving Eva wondering just what the hell was going on.

* * *

"You're fucking kidding me. You panicked?"

Santana pouted at her sister over the video call, and she said, "The words wouldn't come out! I didn't know how to ask her."

"Most people go with the original route of saying, 'Will you marry me?" Reagan deadpanned.

"What if she says no?" she whined.

"Unbelievable. Remind me to slap some sense into you when I get there."

"Wait, you're back?"

Reagan gave a non-committed hum and arched an eyebrow. "Don't change the subject. You chickened out, again, and you've used the same excuse."

"I want it to be perfect," she said defensively.

"It will never be perfect!" Reagan exclaimed. "San, proposals aren't going to always be perfect. You've had the ring for nearly five months, almost as long as you all have been in Miami, and you keep putting it off while you wait for the right time. There will never be a right time, and the more you keep setting up to ask, the more suspicious she will get. And you know how she is once she has an inkling something is off with you."

Santana looked down at the box resting in her lap and sighed. Most would assume Eva would propose first as it was clear to everyone it would happen sooner rather than later, but Santana realized how bad things were going to get when she saw all that blood. It scared her to think that she would lose Eva and not have the opportunity of walking down the aisle to call her a wife. It was selfish and motivated purely by her own personal reasons, but part of her hoped that Eva felt the same. If not, she wasted a ton of money on a custom ring and nearly a year of her life.

"Tana, you have to stop doubting yourself. Why do you keep second guessing what everyone sees?"

Keeping her eyes on the ring, she explained, "Six months ago, I watched my best friend get on a plane to the middle of fucking nowhere Nebraska to help restart an organization Eva wanted nothing to do with before I pushed her into it. Three days later, the guy that picked up where my brother left off got on a plane to Brooklyn where he has pretty much destroyed whatever foundation Leroy put in place and crafted a group of people Eva can be proud of. Then Sam left, then Sue, and then Xavier, and it hit me one morning. This is my life now. I'm in this forever, and it might seem silly, but putting this ring on Eva's finger would be the one thing I can control. I can't control what'll happen tomorrow. Eva could get called away to Los Angeles to deal with some rogue operative. She could be kidnapped, shot, poisoned, and I would have nothing left. She's everything to me. I've invested so much into this, into her, that marriage seems like the next logical step, you know?

"Maybe it's just me being a hopeless romantic. Living here with her, spending all this time with her, and discovering why I fell in love with her has been nothing short of amazing. I love it, I love her, and I want to marry her. I just don't know how to ask. It seems silly having some romantic declaration, and it seems foolish blurting it out in the middle of breakfast with pancakes stuffed in her cheeks. I want it to be special, just us, and I want to be able to look her in the eyes and say, 'will you marry me?'"

"Yes."

Santana jumped up, her phone clattering to the floor, and she never even realized that Reagan was no longer on the screen. Her heart turned to stone as Eva picked up the box that'd fallen off her lap, and she reached for it, only for Eva to hold it out of reach.

"Is this why you've been so jumpy lately?'

"I- haven't been jumpy," she lied.

Eva grinned and opened the box, keeping one eye on her and another on the ring, but her smile faded. She glanced at Santana quickly, and whispered, "You remembered?"

Santana wrung her hands and nodded. "You stood there for nearly ten minutes drooling over it. I knew you didn't want the original because it was too 'Princess-y,' so I asked them to change the diamond to onyx and put it on a rose gold band. It took forever to get it back, and when they called, we were in Seattle visiting Sam. I had to have Reagan fly in from Atlanta to grab it for me and place it in a hiding spot. I-"

"Hush, baby," Eva cut in. She then turned on her heel, the ring still in her hand, and Santana was terrified. She had no idea what Eva was about to say or do, but to her utter surprise, Eva opened her nightstand drawer and pulled out a similar looking box.

"Your sister is an asshole," she snorted. "I had her pick up your ring around the same time. She said she was in Miami for personal business, and now I know that personal business was you."

"You…bought me a ring?"

"Of course, I did. Why wouldn't I? I told you a long time ago that I would marry you, and I meant it. I was going to propose last night, but the stupid caterer messed things up by not having the food ready in time and I-

"Hush, baby," Santana said, mimicking her exact words from before.

Eva laughed and walked over, holding out the box she bought for Santana. "You want me to get down on one knee?" she teased.

"It would help. I was sitting down when I asked you."

"You didn't even know I was in the room!"

"Semantics."

Eva rolled her eyes and dropped down, grabbing Santana's left hand. "Fine. Santana, will you marry me?" she huffed.

"No fucking way. You're not going to bullshit this proposal."

"I have literally been waiting to ask you this for almost a year, ever since the night after my father's funeral. When I saw you in the bed next to me, having exposed one of your biggest secrets to me, I knew I wanted to wake up like that for the rest of my life. I didn't start calling you Koroleva because it tied into the card joke around my family. You truly are my Queen. I'm nothing without you. Fighting with you is the worst because it feels like I'm fighting with myself. Every time you're sad, I want to hold you tight and never let you go. When you're angry, I'm angry too. When you're happy, my whole fucking world becomes this shit storm of rainbows and sunshine. Seeing you smile is the best thing in my life, and honestly, I would give all of this up if it meant staying with you for forever. I would never pick up a gun again. I would do some random shit, like go to Broadway or something, and go on the straight and narrow for you. No pun intended. So, please, for fuck's sake, marry me?"

Santana was about to say yes when a voice that sounded suspiciously like Quinn sounded from the hallway, "Say yes or I will!"

Eva quirked an eyebrow, and Santana said, "Yes, I will marry you."

There was cheering, crying, and a lot of demands to see the ring. Santana's stronghold on her emotions took a hit when Quinn revealed that Brittany had heard the entire thing, and it only got worse for Eva when Stone flipped his phone around, and Sam had popped a bottle of champagne in his apartment. Santana caught Eva's eye over the madness and winked. She actually wished Reagan was there to see the moment, and as if her ears were ringing, Reagan's hand-picked text tone sounded from her phone on the floor.

Tina picked it up, and muttered, "Oh, fuck."

That caught everyone's attention despite the noise. Santana snatched her phone away, and her eyes widened as she caught sight of her sister tied up in the back of a van with blood caked on the side of her head.

The text message attached was simple and to the point:

 ** _Sister or Girlfriend?_**

 ** _Which will you choose?_**

 ** _There is no win, only lose._**

 ** _No cops, no agents, and no fancy tricks._**

 ** _Deliver Eva in twenty-four hours or your sister gets dumped in a ditch._**

 ** _Bang._**

And then it hit them like a truck going full speed. They'd forgotten someone was out to get them, get Eva, and in the eye of the storm, they'd forgotten the one thing about hurricanes: there was always more rain.

* * *

Eva took the phone from Quinn and switched over to audio on the call.

"Someone took Reagan," she said to Brittany.

There was a pause before Brittany replied, "I'm on my way."


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Hello lovely people! I do apologize for the insane wait time for this update. I was out of town and was unable to finish this chapter. It isn't a long one, but I can assure you the next couple of chapters will be on the longer side. I would also like to thank each and every one of you for following and favoriting and reading this story, you're much appreciated.**

 **If you were reading Dark Princess, I apologize for that also. I knew I wasn't going to be able to write two stories at once and it was ambitious of me to think so. I will bring it back in the near future once this one is finished.**

 **With that said, on to the story.**

 **Much love**.

* * *

Sam had definitely grown up. His hair was down his back, and he had a full beard that made him look exactly like his father. He had on a pair of black jeans, black boots, and a Seahawks sweatshirt with bleach going down the arms. There was a scar on his jaw, barely hidden by the facial hair, and he spoke with the same Southern twang, but there was definitely a foreign hitch to some of his words. Probably because of how close he was to Vancouver and how often he had to cross country lines to get business done.

Eva's smile was strained as he walked through the door, all business and no pleasure, but they shared a brief look that covered the last several months of separation. She jerked her head toward the bedroom where Santana was hiding out, and he quickly made his way up the stairs to join Brittany and Quinn.

After making sure the house was properly locked up, Eva went in the opposite direction and met up with Noah and Xavier in the study, closing the doors behind her and locking them.

"Tell me what you know about him."

"His name is Rolan Hartford. Born in Virginia but ran away from home at the age of ten and found a home on the streets of New York. Pretty much a petty thief until one day he snapped," Xavier started.

"When he was fourteen, he kidnapped a little boy from the park and sent the parents a note with a picture, telling them they would have to pick between their son or their daughter. The parents called the police, and four hours later they found the boy hanging from the flagpole in front of his school with a note that said, 'Live with your choice,'" Noah said, handing her a couple of crime scene photos.

"Then Rolan escalated. He started attacking people in public, stalking them, but the police could never find him because he would disappear into the sewers. He started working for various families and mobsters, making some money on the side and was truly making a name for himself. Two years ago, however, Rolan found his way to Italy where he met Angel Giovanni…Junior." Eva's head snapped to Xavier, and he cringed. "Yeah, exactly what you're thinking, Kid, is exactly what happened. Junior hired Rolan to force his Dad into picking between him and Reagan, but it didn't go as planned. Rolan fell in love with Reagan and started stalking her. She didn't react the way he hoped she would," Xavier said.

"I can imagine," Eva muttered.

"Anyway, angry at the rebuff, he tried to kill Reagan, but she vanished. I asked around," Noah said, "and it seems like Rolan's been paying a lot of money to find her or information on where she is."

Eva frowned when Xavier handed her a list of people Rolan contacted, and her eyes narrowed on one name in particular. "Motherfucker," she growled. "That stupid motherfucker!"

"We already had Sue take care of him since she was the closest. The family yacht mysteriously had an engine malfunction off the Southern coast, and Mexican authorities believe their bodies to be fish food at this point."

"Noted, but he still…" she trailed off and took a deep breath. She balled the list in her hand, tossing it in the fireplace, and continued, "Rolan knew where Reagan was this entire time. He was-

"Stalking her, stalking all of us," Xavier finished for her. "And when he was ready, he snatched her. This has nothing to do with you or who you are. This has everything to do with Reagan. Santana is Reagan's sister, but you're Santana's girlfriend. This choice, he knows, will haunt her for the rest of the life."

Noah coughed and added, "As your friend, I don't want to be the one to tell you this, but I have too. There was one case where the police came exceptionally close to catching him. They had a lock on his location, but the moment they arrived, Rolan blew up the house he was holding the victim in, and it killed four more people, two of which were children. He's dangerous and unpredictable, and if we push too hard in these next few hours, we'll lose more than Reagan."

"If he's been stalking us, he knows what we all look like. Every guard, every family member, and he will have eyes on us. He probably has eyes on us now," Xavier said pointedly. "We have to be careful on this one, Kid."

Eva nodded. "I know. But, um, Xay, can I speak to Noah? Alone," she said.

Xavier shrugged and left the study. When she was sure he was gone, she folded her arms and leaned back against the wall. "I know Reagan stopped in New York to see you before she came down here," she said. "Take me through her visit."

Noah rubbed his jaw and sat down on the edge of her desk. "She came straight to my apartment after her flight, and she took a nap while I did some paperwork. When she woke up, I ordered some pizza, and we watched a movie. A pretty typical day for us, you know? We had sex, she took a shower, and I drove her to the airport. We did stop for coffee but nothing else. Not once did it feel like we were being watched. If anything, it was the most privacy we'd had in a long time. No one knocked on the door, no one called, and it was peaceful. When she got out of the car, she smiled at me and told me she'd see me at the party, and that was it."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, I am," he snapped.

Eva held up her hands and said, "I was only asking."

He grunted and ran a hand down his face. "Fuck, man…" he sighed. "I wanted her to stay for another day, but she said she had to get back to Miami for something important, said she couldn't miss it, and no matter how many times I asked, she didn't tell me. But," he gestured to her ring finger, "I can clearly see why she needed to get here."

Blushing, Eva put her hand in her pocket and cleared her throat, "Focus, Noah. Think about interactions you had with other people," she said. "Is there nothing that stands out to you? Even something you brushed off could be important."

"Well, I mean, our pizza delivery guy from the night before was our Uber driver to the airport. He was pretty cool, stuck around after we went to the coffee shop. He flirted with Reagan, but guys always flirt with her. I thought nothing of it," he said, frowning.

Eva pushed off the wall. "Noah, did you see him at any time before that?" she asked slowly. "Think very hard about every face you saw that day."

"I didn't-," He stopped and stood up, his eyes widening. "No, wait, I did see him! Before he dropped the pizza off to my apartment, maybe two hours before while Reagan was sleeping, I remember seeing him outside my window on the street. He wasn't looking my way, but I could see him pointing toward my building. But he was dressed in his work uniform, and he had a pizza bag with him, so I just thought he was asking for directions…FUCK!"

Eva crossed the room to keep Noah from possibly breaking his hand while he punched the wall, and she wrapped him in a hug. "Describe him the best you can," she said softly.

He trembled in her arms, but said, "White, maybe six feet, and about one-thirty, one-forty. He wore a hat, though, so I can't be too sure about his hair. I caught of glimpse of his eyes, brown, but they were almost black."

"Did Reagan act weird when he was around?" she asked.

"Not really. I mean, she wasn't talkative but you and I both know Ray isn't a talkative person. I was the one who did all the talking around other people," he said. He sniffed and started to cry. "I should've seen it. I should've known something was wrong, but I-

"Was trying to enjoy what little time you could with your girlfriend," Eva finished for him. "The only person Santana and I are upset with is the idiot that snatched her, not you."

Noah scoffed and swiped at his face. "Santana wants to kill me, I could see it in her eyes when I got here," he grumbled.

"Her sister has been taken, and the kidnapper is making her pick between her fiancée and her family. She's angry, but in case you didn't see or hear it, she spent ten minutes yelling at Brittany for no reason."

"Is that why you're hiding out down here?" he teased weakly.

"Shut up," she sighed. "Now, from what you read about Rolan, is he the type to leave or do you think he stayed in Miami?"

"He's definitely still here. Traveling with Reagan would be difficult because he would have to keep her drugged. She has a high tolerance for certain chemicals, and I'm sure he has a hard time keeping her unconscious."

"Definitely didn't know that, but okay. Find someone who would prefer not having their tongue ripped from their mouth and willing to offer me any information they can about Rolan." Eva then kissed the side of Noah's head and added, "We're going to find her, and then you can grovel to her for the rest of your life if need be. But we will find her."

He grunted and exited her embrace, still wiping at his eyes as he left the room. Eva waited until the door was closed before she hung her head and sighed.

"Fuck," she muttered.

* * *

Tina came into the study and shut the door. She inclined her head at Eva, having a good idea of why she was hiding out downstairs but said nothing as she handed her Santana's phone.

"I took this while Brittany distracted Santana. It's a new message," she said, sitting down next to Eva.

With a sigh, Eva unlocked the phone and read the text out loud, "Twelve Hours Left, Tick Tock. Tick Tock. You, my Dear, Should Hurry, There are Only Twenty Four on a Clock. Half is Gone, Half Remains, I Should Hope You Continue To Play My Game. Or Your Sister Will Die, Your Hesitation to Blame. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Draws Closer Does the Flame."

Tina took the phone back and said, "That last line implies he's going to set her on fire."

"Yeah, it does," she whispered.

"So, what's the plan? What do we do now?"

Eva turned and looked at her, a rare sign of fear etched onto her face. "I have no idea," she confessed. "This time, I have no idea."


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: My update is usually around the weekend, just for future reference. Also, I feel like I should warn you guys that someone will die in this chapter. Someone unexpected.**

 **Sorry?**

* * *

Sam, Noah, and Brittany kissed Santana on the forehead, while Quinn and Tina spoke with Stone about what needed to happen. The sleeping pills they crushed into her orange juice would give them a few hours, and they knew the moment she opened her eyes, she would know something was wrong. She would be furious, and she would scream, rant, and rave, but it would've already been done.

Eva would be gone, playing hero, and that would be the end of it.

Or at least, that's what they hoped.

The plan was flimsy at best, and it was so full of holes that it was a miracle they managed to accomplish the first part. No one was on board with it. But Eva threatened to do it herself, and that wasn't an option, so with great reluctance, they joined in. Eva had Xavier drive her to the meeting spot with their newest adversary, and if the monitor they placed in her mouth was any indicator, she was still in Florida, but she was moving along the outskirts of the city. At the speed that she was moving, they had no doubt that she would be out of Miami within minutes.

Which begged the question, where were they headed?

Would the monitor last during the journey?

Would Santana last during the entire process?

Brittany got comfortable in her chair, a book and some water beside her, and Quinn stretched out on the floor to finish sketching out a tattoo she was working on for Eva and Santana. Tina disappeared to keep track and make sure that no one remotely resembling Reagan or Eva would pop up in her system, and Noah shared a look with Sam as they left the room.

They had the same question etched onto their face.

Why in the hell did they agree to it?

* * *

Eva rested her head on the window of the Jeep, Reagan lying in her lap, and their driver sang along to Maroon 5 on the radio. The further they got from the city, the more Eva was regretting her plan, but…

She looked down at the tangled curls and mud-smudged face tucked into her stomach. Reagan was Santana's family, and Eva would protect her family just as she would defend Sue or Xavier or Sam. Even Brittany and to some extent, Tina and Quinn. Reagan was an unfortunate target in some sadistic game, and it seemed like the right idea at the time to give into his games.

"You like Panic?!"

She rolled her eyes and looked at the sparkling blue eyes staring at her from the rearview mirror. "I like Fall Out Boy more," she said.

Rolan scoffed and slammed on the brakes. She lunged forward, smashing her face into the back of his seat, and Reagan yelped as she rolled onto the floor.

"We're here! Hope you guys aren't afraid of heights!"

Eva's nose was bleeding, and Reagan was holding onto the side of her head, but Rolan didn't care. He yanked open their door and dragged them out one by one. In any other situation, one or both would've fought back. It would've been the perfect opportunity, but they were both wearing a collar that, if Rolan felt like it, would send four spikes into their neck. The threat of decapitation and the fact they were naked made her more careful with her actions.

"Okay. In the spirit of honesty, I didn't anticipate you showing up. I thought Santana would pick you and let her half-sister rot away, which would've been preferred, but I'm nothing if not adaptable."

"Good to know," Eva sighed.

One thing she learned in being around Rolan was that he loved when people responded to him, even if there was no need for a response.

"I do feel a little guilty for the present I sent to your house though."

Eva tensed and asked, "What?"

Rolan smiled cheerfully, leading them to a plane on the runway, and said, "Oh, yeah. When you showed up, I had a brilliant idea. I had someone track Santana's phone to its exact location and decided to send some party favors your family's way. I was promised it would be a blast."

"B-but you have what you w-wanted!" Reagan stammered, her throat still hoarse from the torture Rolan put her through.

"Do I though?" he mused. "Do I have bragging rights for not only eliminating you from history, giving a lot of grieving families some peace, but also killing off a majority of the Collective's leaders? Do I have bragging rights for being the one to kill the Collector's daughter?"

"How-

"Oh, come on. I do my research, Krayevsky. Or should I say, 'Berry?' I'm not sure which name you go by anymore."

Eva clenched her fists and refrained from grinding her teeth, knowing that she could damage the tracker they put into her gums.

"Smile! You will die knowing that you did what you thought was best for your family. Of course, they will die too, but that's neither here nor there. Up you go," he said, poking and prodding them up the stairs to the plane.

Reagan was shaking in her arms, Eva was too busy trying to figure out how to get out of this, but she was in a very tight spot. The detonator was around Rolan's wrist, and he kept that arm as far away from them as possible.

"Don't even think about it," he whispered in her ear. "I know you want to try, but how do you even know this is the only one I have? How do you know this is the real one? Do you really want to take that risk?"

Eva tore her eyes away from him and sat down in the chair next to Reagan, not even flinching when Rolan handcuffed them together and to the armrest.

"Ah, now I want you both to get really comfortable. The flight to Russia will be a long one."

Eva's head snapped to his, and her eyes went wide. "Wha- Russia?!" she exclaimed.

"Indeed. I made a phone call while you were asleep. Apparently, your father has a debt to pay off. The deal was, if I deliver the heir to the Krayevsky fortune to him, then I get paid, and I wipe my hands of you. I can't remember if the guy is a sex trafficker or a pervert, but I guess they're kind of the same thing, right?"

Eva lunged forward, but Rolan didn't flinch. "I will get free, and I will get that detonator. And you better run as fast as you can, you sick fuck because I will skin you alive and wear you as a winter coat," she spat.

Rolan lifted an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs. "How fascinating. You still think you can get out of this," he drawled.

"I know I can."

"Get comfortable, Krayevsky. This will probably be the last time you have human contact in the next, oh, I don't know, eternity?"

Rolan waved his hand at one of the flight attendants, and she bowed and rushed off to the pilot. The doors closed and Eva flinched as the engines started.

She was going back home, but that wasn't what was bothering her.

To save one family member, she may have just damned the rest, and that was the only thought on her mind as Florida grew smaller as the plane rose higher.

* * *

Sam studied the computer screen. It'd been three hours since Eva left, three hours since her tracker went offline, and three hours of trying to figure out where she could possibly be. Noah came in, a piece of paper in his hand, and there was a look on his face that told him whatever he said wasn't anything good.

"The tracker goes offline if its signal gets above four thousand feet," he said.

Sam groaned and dropped his head into his hands. "They're on a plane," he sighed.

"That's the best thing I can think of, yeah."

The two of them sat in silence.

"San's going to kill us," Noah murmured.

"Most definitely."

There was a bang above them. Shouting, more banging, and feet pounding against the wood.

"Speak of the devil…"

"And she will appear."

They rose up as one and went out to meet their fates head on. Santana skidded to a stop in the foyer, a wild look in her eyes, and Brittany and Quinn came down shortly after. Quinn was holding the side of her face, and Brittany was limping.

"Where. Is. She?"

No one answered.

Santana swayed, closing her eyes momentarily, and she asked again, "Where. Is. Eva?"

Still, no one answered.

"ONE OF YOU BETTER FUCKING TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!"

"She went to save Reagan," Noah blurted.

Santana's entire body froze. "What," she hissed, "did you just say?"

Her voice sent shivers down every spine.

"It was Eva's idea," Tina said, finally exiting the living room where she'd been working. "Eva contacted him, agreed to a meet-up, and that was the end of it."

"You let her go by herself?!"

"We have a tracker on her," Brittany said quickly. Then she looked at Sam, "Right?"

Sam hung his head. "Uh, we did have a tracker on her. But…the device goes out once the signal goes over four-thousand feet," he said.

That had everyone go silent.

"And that means what, exactly?"

"It means he put her on a plane," Noah said. "And we have no idea where he took her."

"He kept them both?" Santana asked.

There was a sense of brokenness in her question that made them feel much worse than they did before, and Santana dropped to her knees when Noah nodded. She clutched her chest and let out the most heartbreaking wail they'd ever heard from her. Sam ran a hand over his face, guilt and anger warring in his head, and her sobs turned hysterical. Brittany and Quinn obviously wanted to hold her, but she was radiating something that kept them all at bay. Taylor and Stone, along with Xavier, came into the foyer and stopped short of asking what was wrong. Xavier had a weird look on his face, one that matched what Sam felt, and the group realized just what their actions meant.

Eva and Reagan were in the wind, with a sadistic serial killer, and they had no way to locate either one of them.

* * *

"Wake up!"

Eva jerked and opened her eyes, coming face to face with a bottle of water that had a straw coming out of it.

"Drink. I know you haven't had any in the last few hours and I don't want you dying on me yet."

Eva was too thirsty to think twice about being drugged, but she made a motion to Reagan. "What about her?" she wheezed.

"She already had her water."

Eva knew he was lying. "Give her water," she said.

"Why?"

"Because as long as I'm with you, I'll do what you ask, no matter the thing around my neck. She's my sister. Please give her water."

Rolan stared at her for a long time before he sighed and put the straw against Reagan's lips. She greedily drank what she could before he pulled it away.

"Happy now?" he grumbled.

"No, but closer than I was before."

He rolled his eyes and poked her in the lips with same straw. "Now, you drink," he commanded.

Eva did as told, and once the bottle was empty, he tossed it in the trash and went back to sit down.

"Oh, I have a video to show you," he said, pulling out his laptop. He clicked on it and what appeared to be a live stream popped up on his screen. He moved their tray tables down and placed the computer in front of them. Reagan leaned in closer, and they both gasped as they saw the house, their house, in the distance.

"This is a camera feed of the present I'm sending you guys. Should set off quite a bang."

"I-is that a missile?" Reagan asked weakly.

"Sort of. It's a drone carrying a missile. It isn't military grade, but it will still level the house."

Eva kept her thoughts to herself. If she knew her defense system well enough, it would alert them to an attack from the air. She just hoped they moved fast enough to get into the bunker.

"It's flying below your radar, dear. It will stay out of range of your defense until it's too late. I told you, I do my research," Rolan said.

Eva's eyes closed and she dug her nails into the armrest.

"Don't get silent on me now," he said to her, nudging her. "I want to know what you're thinking."

Without opening her eyes, she whispered, "Don't make me watch this."

"Open your eyes willingly, or I force them open," he growled.

She forced her eyes to open, and as the drone grew closer, her heart dropped into her stomach as the missile locked onto her house.

"Wow. I just realized this will be the second house that exploded, except those bodies won't be faked. They will be real, and it will be all your fault."

* * *

Alarms sounded in the house.

"That…wait, that's the alarm for an air attack," Taylor said, frowning. "What the fuck is-

"Guys! Drone!" Stone shouted, looking out of the window. "And it's carrying a missile!"

"How close?" Sam asked, moving into action with everyone else.

"Too close. Shit. It must've been flying below our radar until the very last second. We don't have time to get to the bunker!"

"We have to try!" Sam exclaimed.

The group sprinted down the basement stairs. Santana was first with Brittany and Quinn, then Noah and Tina, then Sam and Xavier, then Taylor and Stone. They found the door and Sam typed in his code, then Brittany typed in hers. The door opened, and they rushed inside, but the door stopped mid-way. Sam pressed the button on the wall, but there was a weird whirring sound, and it still didn't move.

"Fuck! It won't shut!"

"What do you mean it won't shut?" Noah exclaimed.

"The damn mechanism isn't working! The automation is down!"

Everyone froze.

"That means someone has to close it manually," Brittany breathed out.

"Two people," Taylor gritted out. "It's too heavy for one person."

"I'll go," Xavier said. "I can do it on my own."

"We'll both do it," Noah said. "We're the biggest ones here."

"What? No way!" Brittany said.

"Dad, you can't!" Quinn shouted.

"I know. I know," Xavier sighed, pulling her into a hug. "But I won't let you die down here if I can do something about it."

"No one is dying! Me and Stone can do this, right?" Taylor said, trying to hype himself up.

"Yeah, we got this. Alright?" Stone agreed, albeit hesitantly.

Sam watched them argue, knowing they were running out of time, and he knew deep down there was a way to close it without two people dying. His Dad taught him all about the bunker when he was younger, they'd had one back at the house in Lima, and the door always had a weak spot that would make sure no matter what, it would close. Unfortunately, it was outside of the bunker, and his father always told him it was a sacrifice backup. Sam could hear the drone over the house, and he slipped out unnoticed. Or at least that's what he thought. When Sam turned, Santana was already moving, and her hand reached out for him, but he closed his eyes and slammed his shoulder into the weak spot of the door. As he predicted, it began to close, and her hand disappeared behind the reinforced metal.

* * *

When the door shut, Noah looked around, and he cursed. "No! Sam!" he shouted and banged on the door. "SAM!"

Brittany joined him in banging, as did Quinn, but everyone else remained rooted.

"We have to let him back in!"

"He shut off the system," Xavier said, pointing to the blank screen in the bunker. "It's on a timer to reset in ten minutes."

"What! Who the hell put that in here!"

"His father," Brittany sighed, sliding down the door. "His father made this bunker, and I imagine Sam figured a better way."

"How is Sam dying a better way?!" Noah shouted.

"It's too late," Santana whispered.

As soon as she uttered those words, a massive boom sounded around them, and the lights in the bunker went off.

* * *

Sam held his hand against the door, hearing his family bang and scream at one another, and a few things went through his mind before he was thrown off his feet. He would never see his parents again. He would never tell Quinn that she was the best thing that ever happened to him, no matter what he said to her before. And he would never see his best friend walk down the aisle.

The last thing, however, he thought about before his head slammed into the far wall, was that he never told Eva and Noah the truth about what happened in Brooklyn that night. He never told them who ordered the hit on their parents.

* * *

Eva watched her house go up in flames, and the live feed went out. Rolan clapped her on the shoulder and took his laptop back.

"Now that that's over, I think we can all use a nap. We have a long flight ahead of us."

"I will kill you for this."

"You can't get out of this one, Krayevsky. Face it. You've lost. And your family paid the price for your heroism."

"I don't often make promises," she murmured. "But to you, Rolan, I will promise one thing. I. Will. Kill. You."

Eva stared at him, and as she expected, he looked away first, and she took the small victory for what it was, but not even that could erase that growing pain in her chest.


	29. Chapter 29

There was a dull ache in her chest she couldn't explain. As the plane flew over the Atlantic Ocean, Eva bounced her leg with the engines roaring in her ears. Reagan was asleep, her exhaustion from the past several hours etched onto her face, and Eva couldn't blame her. Their captor was smart, sadistic, and planned for everything, even the steps they hadn't yet made. She was used to feeling off-kilter being in Hartford's presence, but this was something different.

It reminded her of when she was younger when Sam had gone out of town for three weeks. She felt the same ache when he was…Eva's eyes widened, and she clutched at her chest, hoping that the pain was just heartburn from the sheer number of peanuts she'd been eating and had absolutely nothing to do with Sam.

She couldn't lose him. Not after everything they'd been through.

Not Sam.

* * *

When the locks released, no one dared open the door. If they were right, the cops would be out there, and they would have to answer some questions they weren't ready to respond to. The media would be there, and that meant cameras. Thankfully, stairs went down beneath the home to a tunnel that would take them to the off-site garage Eva set up for emergencies such as that one. Since he was the last one to leave, Noah pressed a button on the far side of the wall that activated a failsafe should the door be opened from the outside. The failsafe meant that any DNA left behind would be eliminated by a particular chemical that would spray into the room.

But their "getaway" was marred by the massive blow they'd suffered, and if anyone noticed Santana walking ahead of them, the anger still pouring from her frame, then no one said anything. In fact, the entire group was silent, each one lost in their own world.

Taylor and Stone were planning on driving to the airport and buying the first ticket to Russia they could find. Xavier was racking his brain, trying to figure out why Hartford was taking them to Russia, and he knew he would have to call Sue, which meant telling her about their half-cocked plan. He was not looking forward to that discussion. Tina was mourning Sam, but she moved on quickly and focused on finding more information about Hartford. She would always feel some sort of sadness for Sam, but she learned some time ago that the longer you mourn the dead, the faster you join them.

The thoughts going through Quinn's mind were so indistinguishable that not even she knew what was going on. Brittany and Noah were wondering why they weren't fast enough, how they couldn't have seen it coming, and there was a suffocating amount of guilt leaking from their pores. However, it was the front of the group that was pretty much impossible to penetrate.

Santana was vibrating with every step. From behind, she seemed to be moping, but that was far from the truth. Reagan and Eva were usually the ones people were afraid of, and Santana appreciated the fact that they could take care of all the dirty work, but some idiot took her fiancée and her sister. She was planning, already thinking of calling her father and asking him for a little help in discovering everything she can about Hartford. She wouldn't beat the plane to whatever destination Hartford had in mind, but she would damn sure have her family together before the end of the next day, or there would be Hell to pay.

* * *

Reagan's head lulled to the side as the plane jostled in the air. She woke with a start, the pain around her wrists reminding her quickly of her situation, and she relaxed when soft fingers caressed her hand.

"We're okay," Eva whispered. "We're okay."

"You and I have different definitions of okay," she sighed.

"We're alive, and to me, that's more than what I can ask for at the moment."

Reagan nodded and stretched out the best she could. "I swear he's enjoying our state of undress just a little too much," she muttered, jerking her head at Rolan who was leering at their breasts.

"I know. But you're not going to like the plan I came up with."

Having predicted the plan long before Eva came to terms with it herself, Reagan simply nodded. At Eva's confused frown, Reagan chuckled under her breath and said, "I saw your mind working the moment he mentioned our destination. I knew you would eventually conclude that our best bet of making it out of this alive is to go along with whatever he has planned."

"If we don't come to them-

"Yeah, yeah, I know. They'll come to us. I told you I got it."

"You sound upset."

"I'm naked, handcuffed to my future sister in law, on a plane to Russia with a crazy orphan-turned-serial killer and instead of risking getting my head blown off in an escape attempt, I have to hope that the moment we land I'm not going to be sold into a trafficking ring. I'm not upset," Reagan huffed. "I'm fucking pissed but adjusting."

Eva shifted in her seat. "I won't let you get sold, Ray," she murmured.

"You don't have a choice, Eva."

Rolan, having realized they were awake and talking, walked over and started taunting them again, but Reagan wasn't paying him any attention at that point. She was too busy focusing on Eva's hand rubbing against hers, a form of comfort that was unwanted and unreciprocated at that moment.

* * *

"Where are we-

"The airport."

"But we won't even-

"Does it look or sound like I give two fucks about what you're about to say? If you're about to tell me that this is a bad idea-

"I was about to tell you that we won't even make the flight, Santana," Brittany huffed, waving her phone around. "The flight leaves in twenty minutes, and we're thirty minutes from the airport."

"Fuck that. There is at least one private jet at that hangar, and I am a perfectly good pilot to get us to Russia."

"No way," Quinn chimed in from the back seat. "Let Stone do it. Please. You're emotional-

"I'M EMOTIONAL BECAUSE YOU IDIOTS LET AN EVEN BIGGER IDIOT CONVINCE YOU THAT TRADING HER LIFE FOR MY SISTER'S WAS THE BEST OPTION WE HAD!" Santana screeched, nearly crashing the car as she turned around to yell at Quinn. "I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO BE FUCKING EMOTIONAL!"

Brittany gently grabbed Santana's shoulder and spun her around after having saved their lives by grabbing the wheel at the last minute.

"Okay, so, you're going to fly us all to Russia?" Tina asked, unfazed by the outburst.

"Yes. I do need a favor from you though."

"I already looked into connections between Rolan, Eva, and I even added her fathers into the mix just in case, but Leroy was a bust. Hiram, however, came up a lot in my research. Rolan, though good at covering his tracks, didn't bother making sure his allies did the same. Two names popped up, and they're both equally as dangerous."

Santana's grip tightened on the wheel. "Who are they?"

"Emile Cristal, a native of Portugal but operates out of Moscow full time, and-

* * *

"Petrov Bostitch?!" Reagan exclaimed. "You're selling her to that maniac?"

Eva was having a hard time breathing.

"He's not that bad," Rolan scoffed.

"NOT THAT BAD?!" Reagan shouted. "He sold his own children and kidnapped all three of his wives, two who moonlight as escorts for Russian politicians. I'm confused as to how a man who literally says he hates women, beats them in broad daylight, and sells his own seed for profit isn't THAT BAD!"

Eva covered her ears with her hands, the cuffs removed as Eva and Reagan made it clear they had no plans of escaping any time soon, and she was ignoring their shouting in favor of the frantic beating of her heart. Bostitch was supposed to be dead, a car bomb believed to have taken care of the sadistic, misogynistic bastard, but the rumors were wrong. Her father was wrong, and that alone told her all she needed to know about why Bostitch wanted to have her.

Hiram planted the bomb. She knew because she watched him make it with her Dad on the rare occasion that they were together as a family.

If the bomb really did fail, then Eva had no doubt in her mind that she was absolutely fucked the moment the plane touched down in Moscow.

* * *

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that please?" Stone asked.

"Steal the plane."

"Which plane? Surely not the plane that's about to take off?"

"Yep."

"Am I killing anyone?" Stone sighed, already pulling out his weapon.

"I don't care how you get them off the plane, just do it so we can get in the air."

"Yes, ma'am."

Taylor and Stone sprinted out onto the runway, guns hidden behind their backs, and they ran up the stairs just as the flight attendant was closing the door. She screamed, they pushed her back inside, and after two tense minutes, Stone waved them on. Santana ignored the concerned looks she was getting from Noah and Brittany and led the group onward. Their concern made no sense. She wasn't acting out of character.

It amazed her how little they knew of her relationship with Eva despite how long they'd been together. It was easy to see they thought she was with Eva out of love, which was true in a sense, but not the entire story. Santana was with Eva because of a shared desire to watch the world burn. She was just better at hiding it. Sure, she loved Eva with every fiber of her being, but what was love without a little chaos?

* * *

"What could your father have done to cause Bostitch to have such a grudge?" Reagan asked sharply.

Rolan was happily downing a bottle of champagne, singing at the top of his lungs, but Eva ignored him and Reagan in favor of continuing her inner panic.

"I'm talking to you, Krayevsky," Reagan growled. "What. The. Hell. Did. Your. Father-

"He tried to kill him," she hissed. She gestured widely and ran her hands down her face. "He put a fucking bomb under his car and set it off when Bostitch opened the door. I watched him make it, listened to him describe his target down to the birthmark on Bostitch's right thigh, and I waited up for him that night to come home. If he came home, it was a success. If he didn't, something went wrong. He came home that night, and we had dinner, and we watched a movie together. I'd forgotten about it until now."

"Why would your father try to kill him?"

"Bostitch," Eva paused and closed her eyes, "one of the women he sold into prostitution was a Krayevsky. Six months after she was kidnapped and sold, they found her body on the side of the road. She'd been raped, beaten, and nearly cut in half. It was a signature of Bostitch, and my father swore revenge. But, back then, they didn't go into a lot of details. It was kept to the bare minimum around me. Sue told me all of this not too long ago."

"But why hasn't he tried to get you before now?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "I don't think I want to know. All that matters is that he wants me now and if I don't find a way out of this shit, I'm dead by the end of the week."

* * *

Slamming the door behind her, Santana stomped to the back of the plane where she took a seat and glared at anyone who tried to make conversation with her. Stone was a massive dick, and she hated him for kicking her out of the cockpit, but he made perfect sense. Going too fast in a plane might get them unwanted attention, and since they were trying to fly under the radar, it would be best to pretend as if everything was normal for passengers onboard the 'Golden Eagle.'

"Why did you name this thing such a horrible name?" she grumbled.

The bound and gagged owner beside her jerked, his eyes telling her that he was saying some pretty unfriendly things behind the tie stuffed into his mouth, but she merely cocked her head.

"I'm sorry. What was that?"

More muted shouting and Santana allowed herself to smile. She relaxed in her seat as the plane finally got into the air, and a glint from the sunlight caught the side of her face. She frowned and looked down, seeing the wedding ring on the owner's finger, and irrational anger sprang forth in her chest. She had a diamond of her own nestled on her finger, and it felt a million times heavier than it did when she first put it on. With the seriousness of the situation around them, and the fear that Eva would die before she got a chance to save her, Santana's irrational anger transformed into bloodlust and she growled.

"If I were you, I would hope that by the end of this flight I don't snap your neck for the hell of it."

The owner's eyes widened, and a sarcastic chuckle left Santana's lips before she elbowed the side of his head, knocking him unconscious once more. She was unsurprised to find Brittany, Quinn, and Noah staring at her from the front of the plane, and Santana scowled.

"And if I were any of you," she said, "I would spend these next twelve hours hoping we make it in time because if we don't, you will quickly discover that my loyalty belongs to Eva and Eva alone."


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Hello my dearest readers, I must give you a heartfelt apology for the longer than normal delay on this update. You can charge it to my head and life, not my heart. Things have been crazy for me, in both good and bad, ways and I have only just now found a brief moment to get this up and posted. You can send me whatever kind of reviews you desire, I will take them with my head high because I deserve to be yelled at for not updating on my pre-confessed schedule. I still love each and everyone of you.**

 **To my Butterfly, I adore you completely and wholeheartedly.**

 **Okay, on with the story.**

 **Mistakes are mine and unintentional.**

* * *

The plane ride was tense, to say the least. The closer the plane got to Russia, the more nervous Eva became. She had little faith in making an escape before she met with Bostitch, but she was holding out hope that someone, something, would delay the meeting just a little longer. When the clouds parted, and land appeared, bittersweet memories filtered through her mind, but she pushed them to the side to focus on her captor. Once he finished re-cuffing them, he smiled triumphantly.

"When we land, you two will be separated. My employer only wants you, Eva," he said. "Which means, my dearest Reagan, you and I have a date with a hotel on the other side of town. I think it's time I take what's owed to me."

The implication knocked the wind from Reagan as she physically sat back in her seat, an empty look in her eyes, but Rolan wasn't paying attention to her. He was looking directly at Eva. She kept her eyes blank, her face neutral, but inside, she wanted to cry.

"You cannot separate us!" she exclaimed.

"Why? Because you tried to sacrifice yourself for her?"

"No, because I will DIE before I let you take her from me," Eva hissed. "And I imagine your employer wants me alive."

Rolan's eye twitched. "You expect me to fall for that?" he scoffed. "You aren't the sacrificial type."

Eva growled, and the sound caused Rolan to take a step back. He balked at her palpable anger, and she gritted out, "Do. Not. Separate. Us."

"Or what?"

"Or I run."

"Pardon?"

"Eva-

She cut off Reagan with a warning glare, one that told her to shut up and let her handle it, and Reagan bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. As red trailed down her chin, Eva swiped it away with her thumb and turned back to Rolan. "I run. I sprint the moment we land. I'll kick you in your balls and make a run for it. And, I guess your fun with Reagan would be spoiled with the massive bounty on your head. I also doubt your flight crew wants to risk the wrath of the person who probably pays their paychecks."

He frowned, but before he could ask what she meant, a gun pressed against his temple, and the flight attendant gave Eva an amused smile. "How did you know?" she asked in a thick German accent.

"When you poured him his drink, your hair fell from your shoulder. There's a brand right under your left ear, one that I've seen too many times not to recognize. He isn't smart enough to know where to look for your people nor can he afford you. German mercenaries like yourself only answer the calls of someone who can afford your services and have a reputation. Yes?"

"You're very observant."

"Comes with the territory." Eva glanced at Rolan and back to the flight attendant. "Ist er noch nötig?" she added in German.

The attendant grinned slowly and pulled the trigger, Rolan's surprise etched onto his face for all eternity.

"I must admit you are not what we were expecting," the attendant confessed, re-holstering her gun.

Eva lifted her eyebrows. "And what were you expecting?" she asked.

"Someone anxious, nervous, or at the very least, afraid of her situation."

"I've been in way too many situations that require my emotions to be stable, and this is no different. My fear will not change my circumstance, only hinder, and this is why I choose to remain calm. At least on the outside. You have no idea what turmoil is happening behind my gaze."

"Oh?"

Eva held up her hands, jiggled the cuffs, and shot the woman a pointed glare. "Can you please let us out of these things and get this collar off of us?" she asked.

"As much as I would like to risk the safety of my men," the woman said slyly, "I would prefer to have you bound for the remainder of this trip. I will, however, spare you the embarrassment of having to travel naked. We were told to bring you alive, not bare as the day you were born. I'm sure we can find some pants and shirts for you to put on."

"Fine. But just know that I have no desires of escaping."

"Of that, I have no doubt. You have nowhere to go. You are no longer in a safe zone. Bostitch rules much of where we are headed, and if he demanded you to be returned, then the entire city would search for you in hopes of getting within his good graces."

Eva heard Reagan sigh heavily, and she echoed the sentiment by slouching in her seat. "How fortunate for us to be in such a predicament," she said sarcastically. "A city that hunts together lives to see another day."

The mercenary snorted, shaking her head and muttering something in German, and walked off to presumably find them clothes. There was a brief moment of tense silence between Reagan and Eva. Not because they were upset with one another, but because their situation had changed drastically with just a bullet. Rolan remained on the floor of the plane, his eyes open and his mouth stretched wide, but his lifeless stare gave Eva a sense of disappointment.

"I want to feel disgusted by the thought of someone else getting the opportunity to kill him before you or I had the chance," she confessed.

Reagan hummed. "I feel cheated. I had many things I wanted to do to him, things I wanted to experiment on and torture out of him. Then I would post his picture on the web with the list of his victims so that parents and loved ones alike could find peace."

"His death will have to be their peace, and I will ensure that you and I both live long enough to see that peace come to fruition."

"You seem mighty sure of yourself despite what our friendly resident mercenary just said," Reagan pointed out.

"Bostitch has his friends, my father had his, and I have mine," Eva said softly. "It would be in your best interest not to completely forget that I have two individuals in my life who have seen and interacted with some of the worst people in creation."

Reagan frowned. "Who?" she asked.

Eva kept quiet and rested her head against the seat. She forced herself to take deep breaths and prepare for their upcoming landing. It didn't help that the feeling in her chest hadn't lessened, and rocks had begun to settle in her stomach as the plane began its slow descent into her homeland.

* * *

Santana lounged comfortably at the back of the plane, drinking as much wine as she could stomach, and hummed under her breath. The dead body at her feet sated nothing, but the act of wrapping her fingers around the woman's neck gave her some form of contentment, regardless of how temporary. The man beside her was still crying, and his sobs were like a melody to her favorite song.

"Your tears do nothing but soothe me," she said to him. "If you wish to lull me to sleep, then cry louder and harder, think of your wife pleas right before I snapped her neck."

The man stomped his feet and jerked forward, but Santana held him at bay with a simple look.

"Your life is meaningless to me. I keep you alive for entertainment. Your children, however…well, I'm sure you catch my drift."

The teenagers across the aisle started fighting against their ties, but Santana ignored them in favor of glaring at Xavier who was staring hard in her direction.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"No. Merely cataloging all of this for Eva."

She twitched at the mention of her missing fiancée, the ring on her finger still too heavy against her skin but she acknowledged his comment with a short nod and went back to humming under her breath. They still have six hours left in their flight, and she was only just beginning her torture of her companions.

* * *

"It better be pretty fucking important for you to be knocking on my door like a damn- Sue?"

"Nice to see you haven't lost your touch, Jake."

"I- wait, I heard you were dead!"

"Only in principle. I thought you were in prison."

"Only in principle."

Sue rolled her eyes, an uncharacteristic trait that only seemed to happen around the Puckerman boys, and said, "May I come in? We have much to discuss."

The runaway stepped to the side and looked down the hall before shutting and locking his apartment door behind him. She wanted to ask how he managed to get an apartment at the tender age of fifteen but thought against it and followed him to his 'fortress.' He always had a room set aside for private business, the teenage hacker paranoid due to the many threats against his life since he was old enough to type his name on a laptop. He closed the door behind her, pressed a few buttons on the wall, and his computers flared to life while a slight hum began to reverberate in the small space.

"That's just the soundproofing device I created, keeps us free to talk without listening ears both literally and technologically," he said, answering her unasked question. "But what can I do for you? I haven't seen you since the funeral. Puck okay?"

"Yet to be determined," she confessed, sitting down in the nearest chair.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"I received a text message from a friend of mine that informed me three things have happened, and those three things require your expertise. I have one Coyote working to ensure our people don't get smuggled into another country without us knowing, but I need a hacker, one who can break into the strongest of walls and get me the information I need."

Jake blinked. "What are the three things? And what's wrong with my brother?" he asked seriously.

"One, Eva Krayesky and Reagan Giovanni have been kidnapped. Two, someone fired a missile at a house in Miami where your brother and my family were staying, and the place is nothing more than a pile of rubble. Three, the person who kidnapped Eva and Reagan goes by the name of Rolan Hartford, and he is in route with them to Russia. Puck, Noah, is alive, but I was given the impression that they were on their way to Russia to attempt a rescue. Two names popped up in this situation, and I need information on them both."

Jake turned in his chair and started typing, but the tension in his shoulders told her he was more put off by her words than he displayed. "What are the names?" he asked.

"Cristal and Bostitch."

The typing stopped, and the teenager turned slightly. "Cristal?" he repeated slowly. "As in Emile Cristal?"

"Yeah, why? You heard of him?" she asked.

Jake snorted and shook his head. "Dude's dead. He's been dead for three weeks."

"Pardon?"

Jake reached up and swiped at his computer screen, bringing the information to the one closest to Sue. She read the information, the emails shared between some of Cristal's family members and groaned. "Oh no," she murmured. "Oh no, oh no, oh fucking no."

"What? I thought you would be happy he's dead. Dude was a monster."

"Cristal was the monster, but Bostitch is the monster's creator."

"Whoa. Really? I mean, I heard some rumors about him, but I assumed they were just rumors."

Sue leaned down and put her head in her hands. "Not at all. They are all true, and if he's gunning for Eva, then he knows what Elizabeth and Hiram did."

Jake cringed at the mention of his step-mother. "Ah. That….you mean when they tried to kill Bostitch by blowing up his car?" he sighed.

"Yes, but only a select few people knew that someone told Bostitch about the car bomb."

"Wait, they were betrayed?"

"Yes. In the worst way, and it cost them their lives."

"By who?"

Sue sat up straight and nodded slowly. "A man named Warren Evans," she confessed.

"W-Warren?" Jake shot up from his seat. "The guy who said the Eulogy at their funeral?!" he screeched.

Sue said nothing as Jake began to pace the room. He was muttering under his breath, ranting, and raving, and she allowed him to have his moment. After all, the circumstances around that night in Brooklyn were always a little off. A hired hit with no reason never sat well with her, and when she found the autopsy photos of the deceased men, well, what was left of them, she saw the same tattoos that Leroy did. It was Leroy actually that called her and pulled her aside, explaining what the symbols meant and the number of people in the world who had them.

It was a long night for Sue, Leroy, and Xavier when they realized it was someone close to them, who knew they would all be in Brooklyn that night and knew of their plans, who betrayed them to Bostitch. She had the who and the when, but not the why. Unfortunately, Warren and his wife vanished shortly after the group moved to Miami. She'd been searching for them the entire time, knowing that things were starting to fall into place that hinted right back to the same conclusion she made all those years ago.

A conclusion she wasn't ready to admit to herself, let alone Eva.

"Sue?" Jake said, shaking her leg to get her attention. "What's up? You look pale…r than normal."

She ignored the comment and said, "I just need to know what you found on Bostitch, if there's any concrete evidence that connects him and Hartford, and if Eva's still alive. There are other things I need, but those are the most important."

"And my brother?"

"If Puck survived that blast, then you can believe he's on a plane to Russia at this moment, operating on a belief that may or may not be true, and walking right up to the Devil's doorstep."


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: I swear this chapter is the worst I've ever written, but even the bad ones have to be posted. Don't be too brutal in the reviews**.

* * *

 _Kurt trudged into McKinley with his head down and his eyes half-closed. He hadn't gotten sleep since the explosion, since Lima got turned on its head, and a suffocating type of tension hovered over the town. He stopped at his locker, routinely put in his combination, and barely reacted when a slushy hit the side of his face. But when the ice began to burn, his face feeling as if acid was eating through it, Kurt shrieked. He dropped to the ground, and a pair of red heels disappeared under a sea of black as the girl formerly known as Rachel bent down beside him. She grinned, her white teeth shining under the fluorescent lights, and she placed a large cup on the floor between them. She had on black gloves, thick and wooly like the kind you'd wear during a winter storm, and she sighed._

 _"You should have known I would return for you, Kurt," she said, her voice becoming increasingly muffled._

 _The pain in his face grew to be unbearable. He screamed out, the blue ice of the slushy mixed with the blood streaming from his cheeks, but a knocking sound echoed in the halls. Rachel looked at him, her grin wide and teasing, but the knocking became hard to ignore._

"Kurt!"

Hands grabbed at his pajama top, and he cried out, punching the person without ever opening his eyes to see who it was. His father crumpled to the floor, groaning, and Kurt gasped.

"Dad! Dad, are you okay? I am so sorry!" he rushed out, scrambling off the bed.

"S'fine. You were yelling like a damn banshee, kid. Just was trying to make sure you're alright."

Kurt helped his Dad up and laughed nervously. "S-sorry," he said. "Just a bad dream. I'll go throw some cold water on my face, and I promise I'll be just fine."

His Dad grunted and left the room, still holding his jaw, and Kurt waited until the door closed before rushing into the bathroom. When he clicked on the light, Kurt trailed his fingers over his jaw, imagining the skin peeling from his skull, and quickly blinked the image away. He'd been having nightmares about Rachel, Eva, whoever the hell she was, ever since they left, and it was beginning to wear on him. He knew Mercedes had them as well, the circles under her eyes telling him she was getting the same amount of sleep as he was.

Kurt ran the cold water and splashed his face a few times. He reached for the towel, wiped away the water, and shouted when he looked in the mirror. Rachel was behind him, that same smile on her face, and Kurt slid down to the floor with his head in his hands.

Why was he dreaming of her? She was gone, out of their lives, but why couldn't he shake the feeling that she would come back?

* * *

"I remember this place," Eva whispered. "I used to fly here with my Papa all the time."

"Makes sense considering it's his airport. Though, I guess it belongs to you now."

"What?" Eva said, turning around to stare at Natalia. "What do you mean it belongs to me now?"

Natalia grinned and uncuffed them, gesturing for them to follow her off the plane. "Your father has a lot of buildings and companies under various names. He liked spreading his money around. This airport is one of the many places that he purchased and left to the people. He used to visit now and then, but of course, he left Russia, and Bostitch took over. Legally, however, it is yours to do with as you please."

"Why was I not made aware of this?" she asked.

Natalia shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? Whoever handled your father's estate should have informed you, but it's neither here nor there. You won't be alive for very much longer."

Eva ignored the comment and shivered as they stepped off the plane. She took a deep breath, feeling a part of her relax at the familiar smell of her home, but kept her senses tuned to the area around them. "He's already here isn't he?" she murmured.

"Smart girl," Natalie whispered.

A black car rolled out from behind a nearby hangar, and Reagan sighed. "So much for having time to enjoy my last moments alive," she grumbled.

"Do not worry," one of the men said. "Bostitch likes girls like you. Maybe if you behave, he'll sell you to someone who won't hurt you…too much. Then again, with what was on display on the plane, I would pay a lot of money to-

Eva spun around and kicked the man in his throat, causing him to drop and clutch at his neck. She bent down and hissed, "You're lucky I didn't crack your skull wide open. Keep your opinions about my sister to yourself, or I'll stomp a hole through your chest."

Natalie gently grabbed her and spun her around, directing her towards the approaching car. "That was my brother," she said softly.

"Then I should have killed him when I had the chance," Eva said coldly.

"Yes, you should have."

The black car came to a stop, and Natalie pushed Eva to the ground by the passenger side. The door swung open, nearly connecting with her head, and Eva growled as her head was yanked upward by her hair. When the face became more evident, Eva's heart dropped into her stomach, and her eyes widened.

"U-uncle Warren?" she whispered. "What are you-

"Doing here?" he finished. "Easy. I'm the one who is supposed to be taking you to Bostitch. He figured sending friendly face would make things go smoother."

"Friendly?" she repeated. "Since when are you friendly with Bostitch?"

"Because we're allies in this little scenario. I want to have money that didn't come from someone else, and he wants you to join your fathers. We have methods to help each other gain what the other wants. In short, I switched sides. Playing double agent is taxing, I'll admit, but it's worth it in the long run. Seeing your face gives me a warm feeling inside."

"Double- huh? You were my Papa's best friend!"

"I may have been his best friend, but he was not mine. All I wanted from him was his wallet and that nice, deep throat of his when I craved a specific type of company late at night. You would be amazed at how often and how willing he was to cheat on his husband."

"Stop it!" Eva shouted. "You're lying!"

"I have no reason to lie. Your Papa was my lover and my personal bank account. Then he started feeling guilty, and the money stopped flowing, the sex was no longer happening, and I was pushed to the side. I admit it was a little wrong of me to have him shot down on the streets of Brooklyn, but I've made my peace."

Eva was yanked off the ground and lifted into the air, hovering nearly a foot from the concrete. "Y-you killed him?" she whispered.

"I didn't pull the trigger, but I did sign the check. The money was a bonus for informing Bostitch about the bomb under his car. We set it off, spread a few rumors, and your Papa believed he was in the clear, completely unaware that there were plans in place to ensure he never lived long enough to see his precious Eva see thirteen."

Eva's eyes watered, and she struggled in her captors' grasps. "NO! I don't believe you! Sam would-

"Sam?" Warren started laughing and ran a hand through his hair. "Sam was a disappointment, a pathetic waste of my time and effort. He decided he wanted to run off and tell you the truth about his dear old Dad, but I told him I would kill his mother if he ever hinted at my deception. It tore him up having to hold that secret, especially when he started getting close to Puck. He tried committing suicide, but even in that he was a failure."

"Don't talk about him like that!"

"I'm sure his dead body will rest in peace," he deadpanned.

Eva stiffened. "W-what?"

"Yes, my poor son is dead. Died in an explosion. How sad."

It took a moment for the news to settle, but when it did, Eva's vision tinged red and she swung up her legs, the bottom of her borrowed boots connecting with Warren's jaw. His head snapped back, and Eva continued her momentum up and over the men holding her. In her peripheral, she saw Reagan elbowing Natalia, and Eva turned in the air, landing behind the two men.

"You killed my father," she whispered hoarsely. "So, give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you in return."

"Because you are outnumbered," Warrned slurred angrily.

"That has never been a problem for me, so why should it be one now?"

Eva stiffened when a gun pressed against her head and Natalie growled. "Move, and I shoot," she hissed.

"Then I hope you're as good with your hands as you are with a gun."


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Um, I'm sorry. Someone dies in this chapter, and then someone finally remembers an important detail about this story. Unfortunately, just a little too late.**

 **Mistakes are mine.**

 **Love you all.**

 _ **Sorella, vuoi per divertirsi = Sister, do you want to have some fun?**_

 _ **Finalmente = Finally**_

 _ **Mi stavo annoiando = I was getting bored.**_

* * *

Eva remembered the men who tried to storm her compound, the sole soldier that remained and nearly got the best of her, but that was an underestimation on her part. Crouching in front of Warren, someone she once thought of as family, calculating every gun pointed her way and every guard standing around her, Eva was prepared. Seven people in total, Warren included, and Eva was hoping that she and Reagan could get back to the plane. There was a hiss of pain, and she turned her head slightly, her eyes narrowing at the guard stupid enough to place a blade against Reagan's neck.

"Sorella, vuoi per divertirsi?" she asked Reagan, her Italian rusty but better than she expected.

"Finalmente." Reagan snapped her head back, her skull connecting with the guard's face, and after the sickening crack, the six-foot-seven mercenary dropped to the ground. Dead on impact. Reagan flipped her hair out of her face and dislocated her thumbs, sliding the cuffs to the concrete. "Mi stavo annoiando," she added, quickly snapping her thumbs back into place.

Before Eva could respond, a boot entered her line of sight, and she ducked, dropping to the ground. She rolled out of the way and pushed up on her hands, swinging her entire body around to connect with the legs of mercenary number two. He stumbled back, and Eva continued her momentum, throwing her legs upward and felt her toes sink into soft flesh. He screamed, clawing at his eye, and once Reagan was back on her feet, she finished the job with her hands, snapping his head so far back that she nearly ripped it clean off.

Somewhere, somehow, Eva's temporary shoes ended up halfway across the tarmac, so she bounced on the balls of her feet as mercenary three and four rushed forward, Natalia staying out of it for the time being. Warren was suspiciously hovering around, the gun in his hand still pointed at Eva, but she made sure she danced around to keep his aim from being too perfect.

Speaking of guns, the mercenaries had long dropped their weapons, using their hands and feet instead, and it was confusing the hell out of her.

"Why are they not shooting?" she asked Reagan as they passed one another, fists flying past their heads.

"Because you're needed alive," she hissed in her ear, pushing her down to avoid getting an elbow to the throat. "They're trying to injure you to the point you can't keep fighting back. They were paid to deliver you alive. Focus, Eva. I have a bad feeling that we've already lost this fight."

Eva groaned and held her breath as Reagan tossed her to the side, her knee crashing into the nearest mercenary's sternum. He gasped, trying to catch his breath, and Eva was glad he was tall enough for her to stick her hand into his mouth. She grunted and pulled his jaw apart. When she turned around, no one was fighting, but Reagan had her mercenary in a choke-hold and was staring at her in shock.

"Uh, did you just- Eva, look out!"

Something sharp pricked her neck, and the world grew blurry. She fell. Natalia stood over her, a look in her eyes that spelled more than trouble, and strong hands began to lift and drag her from the ground. Then a gunshot rang out. The arms disappeared, and Eva flopped back down. She was cognizant enough to see Reagan lying a few inches away, her eyes unseeing with a hole in the middle of her forehead. Eva tried to scream, but it burned to even breathe. Feet kicked her in the ribs, forcing her unto her back, and tears pricked into her eyes.

"No," she whispered brokenly.

Warren scowled down at her, and his words crashed against her eardrums, giving her more than a headache. "That death is on you! This could've been handled without her dying that way. All you had to do was get in the car! Now we have to wait for you to wake again," he growled.

Eva felt little warmth at delaying her death. She stretched her fingers out to her side, reaching for Reagan, but her strength was fading. As was her sight. Eva looked back to her captors, and the last thing she saw before it all went black was a shoe coming down on the side of her head.

* * *

Santana's eyes popped open, and she sat forward in her seat.

"Uh, Tana?" Brittany asked. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," she murmured. "It's…where are we flying to again?"

"Some off the map airport Hiram owned out here," Xavier said.

"How far are we?"

"Still five hours."

Santana twitched in irritation. They were so far behind, and Santana knew five hours was too long. "Can we not speed up?" she asked.

"Do you want us to get caught by air traffic? We can't go too fast, or we'll attract the wrong-

"It was a yes or no question," she hissed, cutting off Stone.

The Englishman barely flinched and said, "You either fix your attitude, or I'm throwing you off this fucking plane, Eva be damned."

Santana rose from her seat, and her entire frame trembled. "You want me to fix my attitude? Fix MY attitude? You make it seem like I'm a brat for NO REASON! Sam is DEAD! My fiancée and my damn sister could be too!"

"A sister you barely talked too and a fiancée who is a grown ass woman capable of making her own damn decisions!" Stone snapped.

"REALLY?!" Santana replied. "Eva's capable of making her own decisions?! Look. WHERE. WE. ARE. STONE!" Santana screamed, her nails drawing blood as she dug them into the palm of her hand. "WE ARE ON A PLANE TO RUSSIA BECAUSE WE LET EVA DO SOMETHING BY HERSELF! She has NOTHING to prove to ANYONE on this PLANE, and yet HERE WE ARE! Flying halfway across the FUCKING WORLD because she wanted to be the HERO! Do not stand there and tell me that I am IRRATIONAL or PISSY or BITCHY for no reason other than to be this way!"

Stone obviously ground his teeth, working on a response, but Santana had long past the point of sanity. She was delirious, thinking the worse, and she was on the verge of genuinely losing what was left of her mind.

So she went for the kill and was nearly foaming at the mouth as she walked right up to Stone and said, "Do you know the only reason you're still alive is that Eva has some soft spot for you? Do you know that I would've done this shit with my FAMILY over some dishonorably discharged, poor excuse of a soldier?! I don't CARE about you, STONE! I don't care about ANYONE at this moment other than Eva and my sister because I reiterate, if ANYTHING HAPPENS to either one of them, I'm putting a bullet in everyone's head and doing this shit by my fucking self. I'm surrounded by a bunch of goddamn idiots who let a five-foot-two brunette scare them into turning the other way while she practically skipped her way to her death sentence."

The entire plane lapsed into silence, only the engines providing a soundtrack to the tension brewing at ten-thousand feet in the air. Stone's eyes darkened, and Santana smiled, all teeth and no humor.

"I suggest you back away, Blackstone." The voice, as loud as it was, came from an unlikely source. Tina had barely moved in her seat, the champagne still in her hand, but there was an aura around her that read she meant business. "Everyone on this plane is in the wrong, and you know it. We let Eva come up with that plan. We thought it was a good one, but we knew it was foolish and stupid to drug Santana and let Eva leave like that. One monitor in her mouth and hope that Rolan would keep his end of the bargain? It was a foolish plan, and we all went along with it. Santana has every right to be upset, and we all know that this anger is only the tip of the iceberg."

"Tina's right," Brittany sighed. "About everything, and, at risk of my life, Santana isn't even furious. She's only angry. We betrayed her trust, all of us, and we should find ourselves lucky that she hasn't killed us for it. In our line of work, this is something people have died over, and we are still alive. Count your blessings, and go back to the cockpit."

Stone's eyes snapped back to Santana, and she could still see the challenge in his eyes. She'd had enough. Moving her hand faster than any of them could see, she grabbed hold of Stone's penis and squeezed so hard he squealed in pain. She dug her nails, as sharp as they were, into the fabric of his pants and didn't stop until she felt that familiar pop from them breaking through the skin. As he lost feeling in his legs, he fell to her eye-level, and she started to laugh before leaning forward.

"I hope you weren't planning on having any children," she whispered in his ear.

Santana continued to dig her nails deeper and deeper until Stone had passed out. The Englishman dropped to the floor, blood pooling at his crotch, and Santana wiped the blood on Noah's shirt.

"Aw, come on," he muttered. "Got dick blood on my shirt."

The comment, as asinine as it was, made Santana laugh, and she patted him on the arm. "Be happy it's not your dick blood," she said.

Noah's eyes widened, and he stepped back, out of reach, and Santana nodded her head to Tina and Brittany as she passed. When she sat back down, she closed her eyes and focused on the feeling that was settling in her stomach. Something wasn't right, but she wasn't sure what it was.

"Is that why you keep your nails so sharp?"

Santana, without opening her eyes, said to Quinn, "No. Eva likes them this way because when I stick them-

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, nevermind. Forget I asked," Quinn said quickly.

"Suit yourself. You've never had sex until nails are scraping along your walls and-

"DUDE!" Brittany shouted. "Not. Cool."

Santana shrugged and crossed her legs. "I'm about to nap. When we land, I want you guys to burn this plane with the people on it. Including Stone."

No one said anything after that, and once again, the plane was doused in silence.

* * *

Sue wasn't going to Russia, but she could destroy Warren another way. She had Little Puckerman call a friend in Interpol, and fed false intel on Warren, having enough evidence to arouse suspicion. She provided a phone number, an email, and let Interpol do their job, hoping that someone could start asking too many questions and get Bostitch to turn on his on inside man.

It was a long shot, one that could go the opposite way, but it was the best she could do from across the ocean.

"Alright, what's next, boss?" Jacob said, his eyes half-closed.

She smiled and jerked her head to his bedroom. "Go get some sleep. I'll be on the couch out here, waiting for a call. We need to get some rest before we get back to saving our people," she said.

"But, I'm not-

"Your eyes are red, and I can tell you're fighting it. Go."

Jacob grumbled but did stumble his way into the bedroom. She watched his body hit the mattress, and seconds later, he was snoring and dead to the world.

Sue waited until he was asleep before allowing her exhaustion, both physical and emotional, to catch up with her. She leaned down on her knees and cried, stifled by the hand covering her mouth. She mourned everyone she'd lost over the years and for what could be the death of her goddaughter, the last family she had. Sue was crying out of anger, out of fear, and out of regret. She was mad that it happened, afraid that she would be alone for the rest of her life, and guilty for not being there the moment Reagan was taken.

And then, like a bright light of common sense had flipped on in her brain, she jumped up and grabbed her phone. She dialed the phone number of someone who they should've called in the first place, but they weren't thinking. None of them were fucking thinking. She paced the room as it rang, and when the person answered, she nearly screamed in relief.

 _"Emergency hotline for Collective. State your name, ID, and purpose."_

"Blonde Psycho, 546342, and Queen has been taken."

There was a pause on the line.

 _"Sue? What do you mean Queen has been taken?"_

She shook her head. "Someone snatched Eva, Dmitri, and her life is in immediate danger. Immediate as in soon to be dead if we don't do something about it!"

 _"Got it. So, who is this flare for?"_

"Everyone in Europe who can get to Russia in less than an hour, and the operatives already in Russia."

 _"Wait, Russia? What the hell is going on!?"_

Sue punched the table and said, "Dmitri! Send that shit into the air and call them! We have little time, and if we aren't careful, we'll be systematically eliminated! Eva will be dead, and you will be too by the end of the week. There's a mole in play, and I'm not proud to say this is on me. I should've called days ago, but-

 _"Days?! For fuck's sake,"_ Dmitri huffed. There was tapping, and he growled, _"What's the name on the kidnapper? And the mole?"_

"Uh, mole is Warren Evans. The Kidnapper?" Sue winced and said, "Petrov Bostitch."


	33. Chapter 33

**Rome, Italy**

Simone Carter, an American agent, deeply rooted in the heart of Italy, frowned as an alarm from her work phone sounded off twice in her pocket. Considering she was classified as unlisted, Simone wasn't expecting a call from anyone, but the red lettering flashing across her screen in the country's language made her wary. She read the message once, twice, and then quickly paid for her meal.

 _Questa è una trasmissione di emergenza per tutti gli agenti nell'area specificata. Tutte le missioni sono attualmente sospese fino a nuovo avviso. Si prega di segnalare al vostro punto di incontro designato per ulteriori informazioni._

* * *

 **Berlin, Germany**

Miguel Forest attracted the wrong kind of attention in the right way. Planted as a distraction for another agent, Miguel walked the streets of Germany as a tourist would, and he enjoyed every moment of it. His dark skin and hazel eyes garnered stares from everyone, and he often smiled to himself as they pointed and whispered in what they thought was secrecy, but they were unaware Miguel was fluent in six languages, one of which included German. He stopped in front of a coffee shop, wondering if they strong, burn your throat kind of coffee he was looking for when his phone sounded in the middle of the semi-empty street. He squinted at the screen, having left his glasses at home, and Miguel spun on his heel without grabbing his coffee. He was never summoned so directly, and since it came from the mainframe, he was under the impression tardiness would be unappreciated.

 _Dies ist eine Notrufmeldung für alle Agenten im angegebenen Bereich. Alle Missionen sind derzeit bis auf Weiteres ausgesetzt. Bitte melden Sie Ihren gekennzeichneten Treffpunkt für weitere Informationen._

* * *

 **Faro, Portugal**

Giselle Carver ran the same route every morning. She was prepared for any scenario, and any outcome should something go wrong. Run two miles to the city center, run three miles to the tourist trap at the top of the hill, and then run the five miles back to her hotel. Same every day. She passed by the beach, smiled at the children playing in the waves, and pushed down the desires that came whenever she saw happy families. Giselle made it to the top of the hill, and her peaceful meditation was broken by the alarm system on her phone. She glanced down and did a double take as the words settled. Cursing under her breath, Giselle took a detour to her safe house and practically sprinted the entire way. Something was wrong for them to be contacting her, primarily since she was an inactive member due to psychological discrepancies, and it would have to be something serious for them to reach out to her.

 _Esta é uma transmissão de emergência para todos os agentes na área especificada. Todas as missões estão suspensas até novo aviso. Por favor, informe ao seu ponto de encontro designado para mais informações._

* * *

 **Somewhere in Russia**

Brittany, Santana, Quinn, Noah, and Xavier each paused before getting off the plane as their phones sounded together. They shared a look, wondering the same thing, but Santana was the only one who was brave enough to pull out her phone and read the message out loud:

 _This is an emergency broadcast for all agents in the specified area. All missions are currently suspended until further notice. Please report to your designated rendezvous point for more information._

"Wait, is that from the Collective?" Brittany asked. "Why would they be sending out an emergency broadcast?"

"Maybe there's an emergency?" Quinn grumbled.

"Well, we know that, but how would they know-

"Sue," Xavier interrupted, rubbing his face. "Sue must've called it in."

"Called what in?" Brittany asked.

"What do you think, dumbass? Sue called the emergency hotline for the Collective! We've been acting as vigilantes when we have an entire network of people who could've found Eva, saved her and delivered her to us in the same amount of time it took for us to fly to Russia," Santana snarled.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Quinn sighed.

"Wait, if that's an emergency broadcast to all Collective members, wouldn't that mean Warren got one as well?" Tina asked.

Santana shook her head. "Warren was removed from the system months ago. Eva said that she didn't want anyone beyond the core of us getting involved. Which is why my Dad stayed behind in Lima, and why Puck's Dad did the same," she said.

"We're a bunch of idiots," Brittany moaned.

"Yup."

The group walked off the plane, Santana last, and she grunted when the body in front of her stopped. She pushed Noah to the side and was about to curse him out for stopping when she saw what everyone was staring at. Splayed out on the concrete, Santana easily recognized the curvy frame of her sister, and she pushed through the group and sprinted out onto the tarmac. She felt tears burning in her eyes, her hands going numb from the sudden cold, but she didn't stop until she reached Reagan.

"NO!" she screamed.

The blood smearing along her hands and clothes meant nothing to her. She cradled her sister's head to her body and searched for a pulse she knew wouldn't be there. Images flashed in front of her mind, her mother, her brother, and even twisted images of Eva, all lying in her arms lifeless. Santana heard the others stop short of her, but she didn't care. She leaned down and pressed her lips against Reagan's forehead, leaving lipstick mixed with the drying blood caked over her eyebrows.

"San," Brittany whispered in her ear.

She pushed Brittany away and screamed, "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The rest of the group startled at the intensity of her voice, but no one moved. Santana watched them stand there with blurry eyes and the lifeless body of her sister pressed against her chest, and she cried out for Eva. She cried for her girlfriend, for her fiancée, and she begged whatever powers that be that she was still alive. She couldn't lose someone else.

Especially not Eva.

* * *

Sue received a text message from Xavier and opened the attached picture with a heavy heart. After reading the message, one where Xavier announced that Sam was the sole casualty of the blast, Sue opened the image and collapsed onto the sofa. She had no more tears left to shed, but the death of Reagan hit harder than she anticipated. She hadn't known the girl for long, but Reagan was one of the sweetest people she'd ever met. Yeah, she was a little insane, but she had a big heart, and the world was a colder place without her.

"Is that Eva?"

Sue glanced emotionlessly at Jacob and shook her head no. "It's Reagan Giovanni, Santana's sister," she said.

Jacob frowned. "I didn't know she had a sister," he said.

"Neither did we until she showed up one night and never left."

"I take it this means Eva's in the hands of Bostitch?"

"Unfortunately. It also means that our timeline has moved up. We need Eva back within the next two hours, or we'll never get her back."

"Wait, did you just receive a text message from someone? Does this mean they're landside again?"

Sue nodded slowly, and Jacob did a little victory whoop. "Good! Hand me the phone, and I'll get them to Bostitch's home within the half hour, no traffic or cops on their radar," he said.

"What are you up to?" Sue asked warily.

"I've been working while you were asleep. Bostitch has four homes, one for each season, but he only has one home in Russia. If he's in Russia, then there is a ninety-nine point nine percent chance he is at this building nestled deep within the woods."

"He has to have a ton of guards there," Sue said.

"Maybe, but his house is an old factory with so many hidden tunnels that Bostitch didn't bother sealing them all. There are three open, and only one is not currently six feet under water."

Sue winced. "I hope you know what you're talking about kid," she muttered, handing him the phone.

"I would never put Puck in a situation he couldn't handle," Jacob said sharply. "My brother and your people can and will do this if they want Eva back. I'll send the location to the other Collective agents nearby as well."

"Please give them a heads-up that more people are coming! I don't want them killing the wrong people," Sue warned.

Jacob scoffed. "I'm not that stupid," he said.

* * *

Santana remained on the ground until Puck tapped her on the shoulder and showed her a clear route to Bostitch's location. She hesitated briefly leaving Reagan alone, but she knew her sister would kick her ass for hesitating without a real reason.

"Put her on the plane," she ordered Xavier. "And be quick about it."

"Yes, ma'am."

Santana turned her head as Xavier picked up Reagan and carefully transferred her onto the plane where Stone and Taylor were waiting, making sure no one tried to steal it. She waited until he got back, and when he did, she looked down at the GPS tracker and the message, knowing they only had one shot at getting Eva back and it would be a shootout.

"We need to find some way to get weapons," she said. "Got any ideas?"

"I'll text Jake and see if he has any ideas. He said some agents are joining us," Puck said.

"I'm not trusting anyone but myself," Santana paused and grudgingly added, "and you guys with a gun to get Eva back. Until I know these agents are legit, they're not a concern of mine."

"Okay, okay, but I'm still texting to see if he has any ideas."

There was a brief moment where no one said anything, but Brittany exhaled and said, "We're killing everyone on site, aren't we?"

Santana turned her head and looked at her, no amount of emotion in her gaze, and said, "If they aren't Eva or one of us, put a bullet between their fucking heads and leave them to rot."


	34. Chapter 34

**Что бы вы ни делали, я не дам вам то, что вы хотите! = No matter what you do, I will not give you what you want!**

 **Я дочь моего отца! = I am my father's daughter!**

* * *

Eva's head hung low as her body was dragged across the black marble floor. She watched blood drip from her nose, landing on the floor, and like Hansel and Gretel, she left a trail behind her in hopes that someone would find her before it was too late. Her heart felt numb and dead in her chest. It didn't beat the way it used to. Thoughts of anyone she loved only caused pain, so she thought of nothing, but her brain betrayed her and as she lapsed into unconsciousness, memories of her Daddy passed through her mind.

 _"Oh, hey! I thought you were working late tonight."_

 _"Ah, well, things got a little crazy. Figured I come home and spend time with my favorite munchkin."_

 _"I thought we agreed you wouldn't call me that anymore."_

 _"No, you made an agreement with yourself."_

 _Eva went to respond but realized something, and she frowned. "You're bleeding," she pointed out._

 _Leroy made a face as he sat down at the island and smiled tightly. "I know. It's a flesh wound," he said._

 _"A flesh wound or not, you're bleeding. Let me go get-_

 _"No!" Leroy exclaimed. "No alcohol, no bandages, and no band-aids. Just, come here?"_

 _Eva, still taken aback by the outburst, walked over to him slowly and squeaked when he pulled her into a hug. Her Daddy rarely hugged her, especially now that she was older, but she could tell something was bothering him because he was shaking, and it had nothing to do with the bleeding at his side._

 _"If I don't come home one night, what will you do?" he asked quietly._

 _"I- wait, what? Why is that even a question?" she stammered._

 _"Eva, please," he whispered. "What will you do?"_

 _"I would fight. I would find the people that did it and I would avenge you."_

 _"What if I asked you to simply mind your business, go your own way, and go to school? Get married? Have kids or have a bunch of animals? Live your life beyond what you've grown up with?"_

 _"Then I would tell you that the flesh wound on your side has nothing to do with the madness going on in your skull. That isn't an option for me."_

 _"There is always a choice, Eva. And you have more than one option. You don't have to follow in my footsteps or your Papa's."_

 _"Maybe, maybe not," she murmured. "But we don't have to worry about that yet."_

 _Her Daddy grew silent and still, and for a moment she was concerned, but he pulled away and stood up. "You're right," he said. "We have nothing to worry about yet."_

 _Eva watched him limp away, and she ignored the warning signs in her father's words._

 _Three days later, he was gone, and she was regretting not heeding his words when she had the chance._

Hands smacked at her cheeks and she blearily opened her eyes, staring at red velvet loafers before her head was violently yanked upward.

"Eva Krayevsky. How wonderful it is to finally meet you."

Bostitch was as ugly as she thought he would be. He looked like Wilson Fisk, just with a fatter head and an extra chin. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth and she had many, many words she wanted to say, but she kept her lips shut like they were glued.

"Nothing? I heard you were quite the talker."

She snorted and closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose. A sharp pain shot through her head and it snapped to the side. Blood pooled in her mouth and she spat it at the feet of the man responsible for the death of her family. Another hit, another headache, but she still stayed quiet.

"You think staying quiet will help you?"

Eva bit down on her tongue as what felt like a hot knife passed through her shoulder, and she was unceremoniously dropped onto the floor. Another knife passed through her back, then another through her side, but Eva kept her screams inside of her chest. The pain stopped and Eva was kicked until she lied on her back.

"If you thought I would kill you the moment you arrived, then you were wrong. I have been waiting for this for quite some time now. If only your fathers were here to see it. But beggars cannot be choosers."

After he finished speaking, there was hushed whispering in Russian, Eva's brain too focused on her injuries to catch what was said, and she felt her ankles being lifted. Whoever had her ankles dragged her down the hall, Eva's head lolling to the side, and she was conscious enough to recognize they were about to take her down a flight of stairs. Inside, she was terrified of what would happen if they didn't lift her as they walked, but on the outside, she laughed.

"Что бы вы ни делали, я не дам вам то, что вы хотите!" she shouted, knowing Bostitch was still in hearing range. "Я дочь моего отца!"

* * *

Santana trudged through the tunnels. She was by herself, the others choosing to stay behind her, and she was happy about that. She took a deep breath and allowed her emotions to come to the forefront of her mind. Tears pricked the edge of her eyes, and she covered her mouth quickly. Muffled sobs were thankfully drowned out by the rushing water happening below them, and she kept her sniffing as low as possible.

"What do you plan to do if you don't find her alive, Santana?"

She twisted quickly and hands grabbed her waist, keeping her from falling below. Tina raised her eyebrow and released Santana once she regained her footing.

"I-what are you talking about?" Santana asked, swiping at her face.

"If you find Eva dead, what are you planning to do?"

"I'm not planning on finding her dead."

Tina chuckled and played with the knife at her waist. "Santana, you and I both know there is a strong possibility you will find her either dead or close to it."

Santana clenched her jaw and glanced over her shoulder at the others lost in conversation. She looked back to find Tina staring at her profile, and she sighed. "If I find her dead, I'm not planning on leaving that place alive. Is that what you wanted to hear? You wanted to hear about my suicide mission?"

Tina shrugged. "I got the impression that you weren't planning on leaving without her, and if she were dead, then I got the impression you wouldn't be coming back on that plane," she said.

"Am I over-dramatic for thinking that?"

"Yes."

Santana blinked. "What?" she asked.

"Look, you have every right to be dramatic in this scenario, but as cliché, as it sounds, would Eva really want you to live to die for her? To die with her? You have to think about what comes next," she said.

"And what would come next for me? Huh? What would come next?"

Tina grabbed Santana by the arm and squeezed. "Life comes next. Life. And if you die here then you would've have taken Eva's life for granted and you would be dishonoring her memory," she said softly. "If you find her dead, Santana, you can mourn and you can scream, but you must live."

Santana yanked her arm out of Tina's grip and hissed, "If she is dead, then I will spend the rest of my life slaughtering the fuckers that let this happen." There was a pause and she added, "And you are on that list, Cohen-Chang."

"Then let's hope she isn't dead," Tina said emotionlessly.

Santana turned her back on Tina as the others got closer, but not without one last parting word, "Yes, let's."

* * *

 _Punch._

 _"One."_

 _Punch._

 _"Two."_

 _Punch._

 _"Three."_

 _Eva caught the fourth punch and shot out her right hand, connecting with soft flesh._

 _"Good, again!"_

 _Punch._

 _"Four."_

 _Punch. Punch._

 _"Five. Six."_

 _"Punch."_

 _Eva ducked and spun to the side, kicking out her left leg. She heard her father grunt in pain and smiled but was then caught off guard with an elbow to the ribs._

 _"Focus! There will always be more than one!"_

 _Eva hissed as two punches reigned down on her from different sides, and she ducked to the floor, using that moment to calm her breathing and collecting her breath._

 _"You're cheating! You told me Papa was only going to watch!" she shouted breathlessly._

 _"Never believe your opponent. Now, get up! If you fall, you might as well stay down! I'm not raising a pathetic little girl. I'm raising a strong warrior! Now GET UP!"_

 _Eva growled, jumped up, and immediately bent backward to avoid the timely punch that would've had her knocked out before she even hit the concrete. She straightened and dodged another hit._

 _"Fight back! Stop dodging!"_

 _"Didn't you tell me- that dodging – frustrates – your opponent?" she panted, still running around the room and avoiding getting hit._

 _"What does that have to do with anything?"_

 _Eva grinned, hearing the annoyance growing in her father's voice and she feigned going left. When the wind to her left picked up, she quickly moved right and shot her arm out. She clotheslined her father and grinned, peeking down at him after removing her blindfold._

 _"Because you start making assumptions about your opponent," she said. "And assumptions equal what, Daddy?"_

 _He growled and pulled himself off the floor. "Mistakes," he grumbled._

 _"Exactly." Eva looked over her shoulder at her Papa and bounced on her toes. "I turn eleven soon, and I'm already beating him in a fight!" she exclaimed._

 _Her Papa exited the shadows with a smile. "Yes, you are, and I am very proud of you," he said._

 _"One day, you will need this information. So, keep it locked away. Keep it safe. It might save your life," her Daddy warned, kissing the top of her head. "Trust your surroundings and your skills, and you will succeed."_

Eva grunted as another bare fist landed on her thighs. She dangled from the wall on cuffs, the metal digging into her wrists, and the guards took turns trading punches and comments while they waited for Bostitch.

"I wish I could do more than punch you," one guard growled, licking his lips. "That's a mighty fine ass of yours back there that I wish I could tear into."

Eva merely looked at him.

"Oh, come on, nothing?" The guard turned and said to his friends, "Maybe we should find her sensitive spot, get her to scream before the Boss comes down."

"I can think of a couple of sensitive spots I can press that'll make her scream nice and loud," one guard joked.

"Yeah! She seems like the type to like a little pain with her pleasure!"

Eva let their comments wash over her, studying the layout of the room, and the hiding spots that most of the guards liked to stay in to watch the show. She barely reacted when rough hands started pawing at her body, knowing what they had in mind, and she stayed quiet as they had their fun. They eventually grew tired of the silence and went back to beating her body, but she was cataloging every touch and every face. She let her anger grow in waves, taking as deep of a breath as she can, and she released it through her nose.

Another punch to the ribs and Eva counted another broken bone on her right side. That brought the count up to four broken, three cracked, and if they kept hitting the same spot, Eva was afraid that they would puncture something. She kept her fear off her face and subtly tried to twist her body with each hit, hoping that she could limit the amount of damage being done to one side.

But with each passing minute, her hope dwindled and leaked like the wounds littered across her body.

* * *

Santana was the first through the tunnel and blinked at the massive estate in the distance.

"Holy shit, that's bigger than our old house," Brittany murmured, coming up behind Santana.

"That's bigger than two of your old houses," Noah contradicted.

"Enough," Santana interrupted. "What's our way in?"

Noah pulled out his phone and said, "Jake says we gotta get captured."

"Pardon?"

"He says some of us need to get captured. That's the only way to get inside. Our other option would be to trek through the sewage drain under the house."

"Wait, what the hell did we just walk through if that wasn't the sewage drain?!" Santana exclaimed.

"That was the old mining tunnels to get us as close to the house as possible without attracting the wrong kind of attention. Bostitch has guards as far as the airport watching for possible threats," Noah said.

"Okay, humor me. Where exactly does this sewage drain lead us?" Santana asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Um, it takes us as far as the basement," Noah paused and shifted out of her immediate grasps, "into the guard's outhouse."

Santana tensed and looked up at him with hard eyes. "Are you saying our only options are to wade through shit and piss or risk getting killed in our capture to get inside of that house? There are no other ways to get inside?" she asked.

"Jake says there are a total of seventy-five guards with military training and are some of the best in their field. They're the ones who didn't choose the Collective when they came calling. We cannot beat them with seven guns, ten knives, and an angry fiancée."

Santana ignored the back-handed comment and studied the house just beyond the trees. She watched, waited, and then her eyes widened when she had an idea pop into her mind. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and removed the gun from her person.

"Separate into groups of two. I'm going around the front."

"Wait, wait, wait," Brittany hissed. "Just what exactly are you about to do?"

Santana shrugged. "Warren knows who I am, he knows who I am to Eva, and I imagine Bostitch wants a bargaining card for whatever he's looking for out of Eva," she said.

"You're going to sacrifice yourself?!"

"I'm going to offer myself up as bait and hopefully he takes it. I'm trusting you, idiots, to find your way into that house and rescue both me and Eva."

"And if Eva isn't rescuable?" Tina asked.

"Then you better make sure I'm unconscious when you drag me out of that building."


	35. Chapter 35

**Fair warning, this chapter gets extremely dark towards the end. There are comments made and situations implied, so please be mindful when reading if you feel uncomfortable with sexual situations that are more on the non-consensual side. Other than that, pretty normal chapter. But again, this one gets darker than before in certain areas.**

 **"Вырубить ее! Давайте сделаем это немного интереснее, не так ли?" - Cut her down! Let's make this a bit more interesting, shall we?**

* * *

Despite the creak of the chains as Eva swung side to side, the noise of the cellar had all but vanished. Guards were gone or watching from their stations, their interest in torturing and taunting Eva had long waned and shifted into boredom. Her blood, sweat, and urine dripped down her sides, thighs, and ankles down to the cement below. Her hair stuck to her forehead while her eyes refused to stay open for longer than a few seconds. She was toeing the line between consciousness and comatose, and it took great effort to breathe, but somehow she found enough to sing.

It had been a long time since Eva ever opened her mouth to channel the once Rachel Berry, but if there was anyone she could count on to give her hope, it was the loud-mouthed, determined brat that she'd perfected over the years. Haunted by the memories of her fathers and family, Eva's voice, hoarse from disuse, echoed in the silence as she began to sing an old Russian lullaby:

 _Bayu-bayushki-bayu,_

 _Nye lozhisya na krayu_

 _Pridyot serenkiy Volchok_

 _I ukhvatit za bochok_

 _On ukhvatit za bochok_

 _I potashchit vo lesok_

 _Por rakitovyi Kustok_

On her second go-round, guards poked their heads into the room and whispered to themselves, but Eva paid them no mind. Switching from Russian to English, Eva kept her head down as she continued to sing:

 _Baby, baby, rock-a-bye_

 _On the edge you mustn't lie_

 _Or the little grey wolf will come_

 _And will nip you on the tum_

 _Tug you off into the wood_

 _Underneath the willow-root_

"Enough with the singing!" one guard yelled.

She smiled to herself and sang louder, slower, and paid no mind to the men around her.

* * *

Warren Evans listened from the top of the stairs as Eva sang. He felt nothing for her, not anymore. If there was guilt in his heart, it was buried beneath the vengeance and anger and hurt that came from Hiram before his meeting Leroy. Warren was nothing but a farmer boy without Hiram, and he did everything in his power to ensure that Hiram stayed on top, but then Leroy came along and ruined it all. He couldn't understand how someone so powerful and so influential could fall for someone so emotionally wrecked. It was disappointing, to say the least. Did he feel bad for being responsible for not only Hiram's death, but for Noah's mother, Leroy's, Sam's, and his wife's death? Not really. He just felt terrible that they couldn't see their potential the way that he could.

But Bostitch, Bostitch understood what it took to be in control. He made the necessary effort and cared not for the people around him. With power came isolation, and if you weren't comfortable with the separation, it could kill you. Either that or someone close to you. Warren appreciated that about the man, and though his life was on the line every second of every day, Warren still felt proud to be associated with such greatness.

He turned the corner and reached the foyer in record time. He hadn't a single clue how he made it to the front so quickly in the castle-sized home, but when he arrived, Warren found three guards lying in a heap off to the corner. Standing against the wall, about as nonchalant as a bull in a stadium, stood the girl Sam called 'Eva's unfortunate missing piece in a psychopath's puzzle.' She looked tired, stressed, and twirled a blood-covered blade between her fingers.

"Ya know, the plan was quite simple," she began, her voice quiet and breezy.

Warren reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone, and the moment he moved, a sharp pain shot through his neck, and he dropped to the floor, choking on his blood.

"The plan was for me to get captured and find my way to Eva alone," she continued, strolling across the marble. Her bare feet made not a sound as she sauntered over to him, her heels dangling from her fingers, and she slowly sat beside him.

"But when I saw that only four guards were keeping me from walking right up to the front door and ringing the doorbell, I decided 'what the hell?' It was a little tricky, but I managed. After all, I am nothing if not talented with a blade. Too bad I didn't have my rifle." She made a gun with her left hand and closed one eye, mimicking firing a weapon. "If I had a rifle, well, no need for fantasies, right?" she said.

Santana, if he remembered her name correctly, brushed a piece of hair from his face before she yanked the knife out of his throat. She wiped the blood on his face before the blade hovered over his right eye.

"When we first arrived, there were guards all over the place. However, by the time I split from the group and started my walk over, I encountered no guards. No traps, no tricks, and no bullets. I have to ask you, what exactly is going on here? Where is Eva?"

Warren, despite the blood pouring from his throat, didn't even try to form any words. He stared at her unflinchingly, and she shrugged.

"Yeah, I knew it was useless, but at least I can kill you and let Sammy rest in peace," she said coldly.

Warren's last image was that of a knife headed straight for his eye, but beyond the immense pain, Warren felt every emotion he'd bottled up over the years. In his last moments, Warren died as a tortured soul.

* * *

Santana stared down at the dead man and only felt remorse for Sam. She glanced to the ceiling and said a small prayer, hoping that it reached Sam's ears and that he knew she did it for Eva.

"Hey!"

Santana sighed and turned slowly with her hands raised in the air.

"Who are you?"

His English was broken, but intelligible enough that she smiled and said, "A friend of your newest prisoner."

"What?"

Santana rolled her eyes and slid another blade from beneath her sleeve. She may have given the others her gun, but only Tina knew about the blades hidden under her shirt. Santana waited until he was close enough before she struck, stabbing the man twice in the stomach before dropping him to the floor gently. She grabbed his gun, checked it, and grabbed a radio off his waist. Wiping off the earpiece, she put it in her ear and was bombarded with a bunch of gibberish. She wasn't fluent in Russian, but Eva taught her enough to hopefully keep up with the conversations throughout the house. She pulled out her phone and shot off a quick text to Tina, not trusting anyone else at the moment, and went on her way, gun in one hand, blade in the other, and her shoes forgotten on the floor beside the dead guard.

* * *

Tina checked her phone after it vibrated, read the text, and sighed. She snatched the gun from Brittany's hands and shot twice at the two guards before them.

"Hey! What happened to us being quiet!" Quinn hissed.

Tina held up her hand and waited. Five minutes passed, and no other guard showed up to the sound of gunshots, and Tina returned Quinn her weapon.

"The guards are all in one spot. These are the castaways," Tina said quietly. "Santana believes something is going on in the house that pulled all the guards off their posts."

"And you know this how?"

"She just texted me and said Warren's dead, along with five others guards. She left one of them outside the front door."

"Why did she text you?" Brittany asked, a little disgruntled.

"Probably because I had the least to do with Eva's disappearance act, and because I'm not going to tell her she needs to wait on back-up."

"I wouldn't tell her that!"

"Oh? So you're completely fine with her roaming around that house by herself, possibly un-armed?" Tina asked.

Brittany shuffled and huffed, "No, I'm not. This is a suicide mission!"

Tina rolled her eyes and pushed past Brittany, saying, "Duh. It's been a suicide mission since the moment we boarded that plane."

"You mean to tell me you're okay with her being un-armed?" Quinn asked, somewhat defending Brittany.

Tina stopped briefly and looked over her shoulder at the group. "She's not un-armed," she said.

"She gave us her gun," Noah pointed out.

"Then I gave her knives," Tina said with a shrug. "You guys would've noticed that had you not been so caught up in planning how you're going to get her out of the house without Eva. I mean, honestly, do you have any hope that Eva is still alive?"

No one responded, but Tina could see they were trying to think of an answer that would sound great to her ears but wouldn't be close to truthful.

"Don't bother," she said blandly, cutting off whatever bullshit lie they were thinking of. "Just make sure Santana doesn't catch wind of your doubt, or you'll seriously end up being buried under the rubble once she's through with this place."

Tina walked off, leaving them behind, and kept her sighs to herself. She hoped her words rang true. She'd grown to like some of them, but she was loyal to the one with the most power. And that was Eva. Without Eva, Tina gravitated towards Santana, and her servant's heart prevented her from showing any ounce of empathy for the people behind her.

* * *

"Swing, little Eva, swing."

She whimpered in pain, the first sound she'd allowed to slip past her mouth after their abuse, and stared at Bostitch with the eye that wasn't swollen shut. She was fighting sleep, and the swaying of her body wasn't helping her stay away.

"Earlier, I mentioned that I wanted something from you, but I believe we might be having, what you say, a miscommunication?"

When she began to drift off, Bostitch snapped his fingers and someone threw ice water in her face. She woke up with a shout and exhaled sharply before focusing back on Bostitch's blurry form.

"Focus on me, little Eva. Listen very carefully to me, I want nothing from you. Nothing of the average sort. But I do want your ribs removed from your chest cavity. I want your heart resting on my mantle. I want your breasts sliced and craved from your skin and fed to my dogs. I want my men to have sex with your dead corpse and pump you full of their seed. I want your eyes plucked from your skull and stomped on." Bostitch came closer, and his large frame nearly had Eva pinned against the wall. "I want you treated like the trash you are, and I want your body to be so malformed and degraded that your own fathers will turn away from you in the afterlife," he whispered sharply.

Eva had bile rise in her throat at the images but forced it down. The last thing she needed to do was throw-up on the man that literally held her life in his hands. She cringed as his strong hands grabbed her head and jostled it like a snowglobe.

"I know I told you to keep it close, boys," Bostitch said, releasing her head and stepping away. "But now, now, you can have your fun. When she's nearly there, call me, and I will start collecting my prizes."

There was cheering, and Eva struggled hard against her chains. She couldn't figure out why the guards were slowly streaming down the basement. She thought it was her singing at first, but at that moment, she knew why. Bostitch was tired of the games and ready to move on. Eva tried moving back as the first guard got close enough to tear off what was left of her shirt. The second guard ripped off her pants, using a knife to slice through the fabric and also a little of her skin.

"Вырубить ее! Давайте сделаем это немного интереснее, не так ли?" one guard yelled in Russian.

Eva heard him and groaned. Had the guards from before been there alone, she would be excited about being cut down, but with so many in one spot, she knew exactly what was about to happen. She was forced to the ground, held down by three different guards, but before the fourth guard could unbutton his pants, a familiar voice echoed in the basement.

"As cliché as this moment is, all I gotta say is back the fuck away from my fiancée before I cut your dick off and shove it down your throat."

Eva twisted her head, stared through the bodies, and cried out in relief and joy. Santana glanced down, and Eva's relief turned into fear.

"When I'm done with them, then I start on you," she threatened.

Eva groaned again and closed her eyes as the first shot rang out.

She was either going to die at the hands of a guard or the hands of her fiancée. Either way, she was afraid she wouldn't make it out of that basement alive.


	36. Chapter 36

**Colds are the worst. They come out of nowhere and stay for way too long.**

 **Иуда! = Judas!**

 **Mistakes are mine**.

* * *

Bostitch took his sweet time returning to the basement, anticipating a broken and near-death shell of Eva Krayevsky. She would have been a capable ally had her last name not been tainted with so much weakness. He grimaced and ran a tongue across his teeth. Bostitch was still able to taste the poison of a woman he once loved who was unfortunate enough to be cursed with the Krayevsky name. She wore her pride like a warm, winter coat yet smelled as if she spent her life on her knees or prostrate on someone's bed. He hated her. His killing of her body was meaningless as he aimed to kill her soul and free her from the curse that would forever follow her should he not liberate her spirit.

He had moved on with his life when Hiram strolled gracefully into his life like a gazelle leaps into the eye line of a predator. Through the eyes of another, Bostitch learned that Hiram was angry, vengeful, and everything Bostitch assumed the Krayevsky's were not. Had he not been so blessed to have a person on the inside, Bostitch would have lost his life that night in his car. But Fate shone down on him and gave him another chance to rid the world of such filth.

Many had asked why he despised the Krayevsky's so, and Bostitch had no answer. There were no actual feuds, family disagreements, or ancestral conflict that fueled his hatred. It was merely an instinct. He was an Alpha, an apex predator, and he was able to sense weakness. He found it in that woman, in Hiram, and he found it in Eva.

Turning the corner, Bostitch paused at the door leading to the basement. He heard no cheering, no laughing, no obscene sounds of anything other than the silence. Motioning to one of his personal guards, Bostitch told him to open the door and see what was happening. Minutes passed, and his man had yet to return.

"You, go," he ordered another.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited.

"Gah, you two, go," he ordered the last two.

Those never returned either.

"I grow tired of the appetizers, Petrov. Send down the entrée, if you please."

The voice, although stable, was not familiar. Adjusting the collar of his jacket, Bostitch wound his way through the bodies littered along the stairs, men unfortunate enough to get caught moments before they could escape, and once he reached the bottom, he saw his four men kneeling in the center of the room. However, that was not what caused the slight gasp of air to leave his lips. His men lay splayed across the cement floor, their bodies gutted like fish, and their heads twisted so far back that their bones protruding from their skin. The blades of knives stuck out from their necks, chests, and groins while some skulls seemed as if there were caved in by a sledgehammer.

He found himself impressed. There were no emotional attachments to any of the people lying before him, only pity that he couldn't pick stronger men. Bostitch's eyes roamed along the back walls of the room, catching glimpses of teenagers bathed in blood, staring at him, and though their postures screamed solid, their eyes reflected fear.

He chuckled under his breath but stiffened when one of the teens stepped out of the shadows. She held her hands behind her back with her head cocked, and Bostitch crossed his arms in front of him. He could sense she was American regardless of her skin tone.

"Where is Eva?" he asked.

The girl blinked and looked over her shoulder. He followed her gaze and Bostitch forced himself not to retch at the sight of an alive, yet severely injured, Eva Krayevsky. He took a step forward, uncaring about the squelching sound under his shoes, and gestured crudely.

"You are like a roach," he spat. "You will not die no matter how many times I step on you."

Eva's eyes were nearly swollen shut, and her body seemed to be bruised from her neck down to her ankles, yet she held herself like someone with merely a papercut. She said nothing, but the knife in her hand twirled between her bloodied fingers.

"Surely you do not think you can take me on in your state?" he taunted. "You are like a leaf. One breath," he exhaled sharply and grinned, "and you will topple over."

Eva coughed violently, splatters of blood mixing with the dried liquid already found on her hand, and once she was able to breeze, she wheezed and dropped the knife to the floor. "I am not going to fight you. Though it would be honorable to my fathers, I know my limits," she panted, wavering for a moment. "And I have reached mine."

Bostitch laughed and removed his coat, dropping it on the floor and uncaring about the blood and gore beneath his feet. He stretched his neck and pulled a pistol from his side holster. "Ah, so this is why your friends are here? It is many of them, and one of me. Would that not be considered an unfair advantage for your friends?" he asked.

Eva gave a half-hearted shrug, the dislocated limb barely moving, and said, "The group you see is not here to fight you either."

"You expect me to let you walk out of here?" he exclaimed.

"No," she whispered. "I said the group you see is not here to fight you."

"These games are-

A knife flew past his nose and clattered against the brick wall, and Bostitch turned his head to the side. Three strangers came from behind the pillars of his basement, and he stiffened. He recognized one of them.

"YOU!" he shouted, pulling out his weapon. "TRAITOR! Иуда! I SHOULD KILL YOU WHERE YOU STAND!"

"My name, Petrov, is Simone Carter. Unofficially, on behalf of the CIA, the Polícia de Segurança Pública, and the Federal Police, Petrov Bostitch, you are under arrest for murder, first-degree rape, statutory rape, drug possession, intent to sell, money laundering, sex trafficking…" the woman paused, unfazed by the outburst, and shook her head, "you're under arrest for pretty much every felony in the book."

"But, officially, we are not here at the request of those agencies."

Bostitch scowled at the dark-skinned man who spoke, and said, "And who exactly are you supposed to be representing?"

"Are you aware of Madam Krayevsky's designation?" the man asked.

"What?"

"Are you aware of her designation, her title, her role?" he asked again.

Bostitch twitched and said nothing.

"Ah, I see. You merely thought she was free game. Easy misunderstanding to rectify." The man stepped forward and bowed at the waist. "My name is Miguel Forest. Recently, I was stationed in Berlin as what many people would call a distraction. I have been in Germany for nearly three years, and within those three years, I have experienced many changes. One, in particular, would be the complete upheaval of an organization I have been a member of for nearly two decades. I am sure you have heard of the Collective?"

"The Collective no longer exists!" Bostitch exclaimed. "I murdered your precious leader and sent your people into hiding!"

Miguel chuckled and shook his head. "Yes, you did murder our 'precious leader,' as you say, but you did not send our people into hiding. We were instructed to go dark on many of our more public operations, but we are very much so still alive and breathing and well under the rule of someone different, someone more effective when it comes to getting the job done."

"What my long-winded associate here is trying to say," Simone cut in, "is that you signed your death warrant the moment you took Eva Krayevsky into your possession."

Bostitch frowned. He glanced at the nearly unconscious form of Eva from the corner of his eye and said, "I do not understand. Why would it matter? She is not blood-related to Leroy."

"No, but she is blood-adopted, and legally Leroy Berry's daughter, heir to the Collective throne, to keep with the theme."

"Impossible! There are no documents to-

"Because it was done under a law that doesn't translate into Western or Eastern understanding. All you need to know is that it is very much so legal."

"And because it is legal, and you kidnapped, tortured, and attempted to murder her, you are officially under Collective jurisdiction," Miguel chimed in.

"So, our reports will say that we received word of your location from an anonymous source," Simone said. "But when we arrived, your precious castle was burned to the ground, and we found your corpse buried beneath the rubble."

Bostitch screamed in frustration and lifted his weapon, but the gun clattered to the ground as a small blade protruded from the back of his hand. He snapped his head to where Eva was sitting, found the girl with her eyes closed, but there was a smile on her face. Bostitch felt something wrap around his neck, and Miguel moved into his direct line of sight, sitting on his heels.

"Officially, on behalf of the Collective, it is with great pleasure that I find you guilty of kidnapping, torture, and attempted murder of a recognized individual in power. You have been sentenced to death, and personally, if there were something worse than death, I would be vying for that, but since there isn't…" Miguel trailed off and jerked his head. "We'll just take our sweet time in escorting you to Hades's Gates."

The item around his neck forced Bostitch's head back, and as it tightened, spots appeared in his eyes, and his vision blurred until it faded into black.

* * *

Noah was careful as he carried Eva. There was a gun pointed at the juncture of his spine, and he was not interested in being paralyzed because he couldn't hold a hundred and thirty pounds. No one spoke about anything, and the only sound was that of the wind blowing through the trees. Quinn and Brittany were huddled together for warmth. Tina was as stoic as usual, and Santana, well, Santana was as prickly as she was when they arrived. Brief flashes of what happened back at the castle went through his mind, the sheer violence they'd walked in on, and he swallowed down his bile. Santana was a monster. She moved so fast that Noah couldn't even blink without missing something. Quinn and Brittany joined in out of necessity, as did he, but there was no stopping his former friend.

Yes, he said former.

Noah was no idiot.

It would take months before Santana would look at them the same again. He predicted that the moment they touched down in America, Santana would steal Eva away and they would not hear from them until she was ready.

"There's the car," Santana said emotionlessly. "Put her in the backseat with her head in your lap."

Noah nodded and walked in the direction of the massive SUV Miguel gave them the keys too. He told them that there would be a doctor waiting for them at the airport, and that was enough to sate Santana's worries. Noah held Eva tighter and stood as far away from the swinging door as possible. He ducked down and placed Eva on the seats. Santana took his place, holding Eva up, and he scrambled to the other side to get settled. Santana placed Eva's head on his lap, and she shut the door. Noah waited, running his hands through Eva's hair, and he had his head down. When the driver's door opened, and only Santana got in, Noah frowned and caught her eye in the rearview mirror.

"They decided to walk back."

Noah knew that was a lie, but he said nothing. He merely nodded and tightened his hold on Eva. He desperately hoped that doctor was waiting at the airport and would provide good news because, though Noah was no doctor, he could see that Eva was battered, bruised, sliced, and broken in places she shouldn't be. It would take a long time for her to heal, both physically and emotionally. Since her mental state was already up in the air, Noah figured it would either balance out in the end or send her down a path that no one was ready to experience.


	37. Chapter 37

Antonio left the main office and ducked into his private room, locking the door as his phone rang. It was a video call from Santana, and he clicked to accept the request. The screen blurred for a moment before revealing her face, and immediately, he knew something was wrong. He began to pack his things before she even started to speak.

"We're on our way to Portland," she said.

"Oregon?"

"No, Maine."

"Wait, why-

"Dad, please don't ask questions. Not right now."

"Okay. What do I need to bring? What happened?"

"In person, Dad," she sighed. "As for what you need to bring, bring it all, and set up somewhere for us to settle for a while."

He nodded, throwing his jacket over his shoulder, and he said, "How many people on the flight?"

Her eyes darkened slightly. "Four not including the doctor."

Antonio ignored the tone and asked, "Okay, how many injured?"

"Just one," she whispered.

He paused and glanced at her face, at her eyes, and he asked, "Is it her?"

Santana gave a short nod, and he hurried his steps. He shouted goodbye to his associates, telling them it was a family emergency, and Antonio took the stairs to avoid waiting for the notoriously slow elevators.

"We have a doctor on board, and though I trust Sue, I trust you more, and I need you to look over what was done."

"Which doctor?"

"Morales."

"He's a good man, but I understand. I'll meet you all there, okay? I will have everything prepped. I know I will beat you there. How long until you all arrive?"

Santana frowned and said, "Well, we are over Eastern Europe at the moment, so we're going slower than I want. Xavier says he'll pick up speed once we get over the ocean, but I imagine it'll still be seven hours before we land."

"That works out well considering I'm in Denver for a business trip. It'll take me at least five hours to get there. Let's say I'll be there in six. I'll look up places while I'm on the flight. Deal?"

"I'm not trying to be rude, but I don't particularly care how you manage it, Dad. Just try and make it happen, please?"

"I will. Be safe."

Santana gave him a long look before she ended the call, and Antonio immediately started making calls as he whistled for his driver. The man was always around, which Antonio appreciated, and without giving much detail, he told his driver to take him to the airport and call the pilots so the jet can be prepped and ready to go before he gets there. Antonio wasn't an idiot. He knew there was something else going on in the background of that call. He could see the bags under his daughter's eyes and the scratch marks along her neck. There was a darkness in her eyes that made him skeptical, and he desperately prayed for guidance from his wife. She always knew how to temper that side of his daughter, and if she had fed it, then Antonio would have to hope he could reign her in before she does any more damage.

* * *

Brittany grumbled her way through the woods, smacking leaves and branches out of the way, and she was angry. How dare Santana make them walk through the woods!

"I bet she didn't even gas up the jet," she huffed.

"There won't be a plane there."

She stopped and spun around, "How the hell does she think we're going to get home then?" she exclaimed.

"I have a way, but it's not the private jet experience," Tina said dryly.

Brittany narrowed her eyes. "You sure are in a jolly mood for someone who got delegated to the walking brigade as well," she gritted out.

Tina cocked her head. "You think I'm walking with you because I'm in Santana's bad graces? No, I'm walking with you because I'm the only way you two will get home," she said. "I made a phone call while you were screaming at random woodland creatures."

"Yeah right. Santana wouldn't forgive you so easily considering you're the one who lost Eva in the first place!"

"I'm not the one who drugged Santana with her morning OJ."

"Stop it, you two. This isn't going to help anyone," Quinn interrupted. "We all fucked up, okay? That's the end of it."

"Exactly! WE MADE A MISTAKE!" Brittany yelled. "We're being over-punished for it! Eva's alive, isn't she?"

The comment echoed between them and Tina realized they had no idea why Santana was acting the way she was.

"How long have you known Santana?" Tina asked.

"Longer than you and long enough."

"Then you know about her struggles with her temper?"

Brittany frowned and said, "She's always had one, that's nothing new. Why?"

Tina kept walking and bypassed Brittany with Quinn hesitantly following behind her. Brittany ran to catch up with them and repeated her question.

"Santana's temper isn't just a part of her personality. She was misdiagnosed by a doctor as a child in a field that her father was not knowledgeable in, and he was unable to realize the mistake until she was a teenager. Unfortunately, we trampled our way through her minefield, and we cannot avoid the resulting aftermath. We should find ourselves lucky she didn't leave us behind in that house."

"She wouldn't have done that. She wouldn't have killed us for real," Brittany scoffed.

Tina said nothing, but it was apparent Quinn didn't feel the same way. After the incident in the car on their way to the airport, Tina could see that Quinn was starting to understand that regardless of their intent, Reagan was dead and Eva was knocking on death's door. Santana would not be able to forgive them so easily and so quickly.

"What was the diagnosis?" Quinn asked quietly.

"No offense, but that isn't my business to share. I only know because I'm nosey, and I did in-depth research on all of you. She picked Noah for more than his strength to carry Eva. I mentioned it so you would take time to think about your words before you respond to something she might say once we see them again."

"See them again?" Brittany repeated. "Aren't we going to the same place?"

"No. I have no idea where they're going. Santana didn't say. I was going to find us away back to Lima."

"Lima?" Quinn said. "Why there? I thought we were done with that place, and aren't we technically dead?"

"With the right name, hair-dye, and contacts with a couple of tattoos, Quinn, you could walk into McKinley, and no one will recognize you."

* * *

Noah yawned and laid his head on the window, closing his eyes. They were an hour out from Maine, and for most of the trip, it seemed as if Santana was sinking further and further into herself. Eva was stable, breathing, but nowhere near conscious. The blood was wiped away, bones were set, and cuts were cleaned and covered. She looked like a mummy. She wasn't skinny, but she was pale, and Noah knew it would take more than physical therapy to right some of those injuries. There was no sexual assault, thankfully, and Noah literally saw some of Santana's tension melt from her body. It was just a long, long flight for him.

"You are staying with us in Maine while she recovers."

Noah jumped, and his eyes popped open as Santana sat in the seat next to him. "I, uh, okay? May I ask why?"

"Because she's going to need something from you that I will not be able to give her. She lost Sam, and I know that when the physical pain ends the emotional pain will begin and I," Santana paused and clenched her jaw, "I am incapable of giving that to her at the moment."

"I'm here for emotional support? Me?"

"You two share a bond that she and Sam did not. You both lost your parents in the same way, and you had to recover from that together. You two have the same tattoos, and you are, for all intents and purposes, the second brother she never had. Brittany and Quinn would have been emotionally stifling, and I will be emotionally unavailable, hence you."

Noah frowned at the repeated comments about her emotional state and hesitantly grabbed her hand. "San, what's going on? Are you okay?" he asked.

She removed her hand from his and stood up. "Morales said that she will be asleep for a majority of the week. She needs rest to heal from the injuries to her head. I will be leaving you two with my Dad while I go to a private location until I can get myself back together. My Mom left it for me. Only I know about it, and now you do too, but please don't say anything."

Noah was suffering from whiplash with the conversation, but he still managed to nod. Santana gave him a small smile, yet tinged with a little crazy, and walked back to where Eva was lying across the seats with Morales constantly checking her vitals. He didn't want to ask about what she did with Reagan's body, but while they were on the plane, Santana and Xavier carried it off into the woods and came back covered in dirt and smelling like smoke.

Sighing and placing his head back on the window, Noah watched the water below and tapped an imaginary beat on his thigh. He had a brief moment of weakness where he wished he had his mother's strength, but a warmth in his chest reminded him that she would always be with him, and that was enough to calm his nerves and settle his heart.


	38. Chapter 38

**We are nearing the end of this story. I am honestly shocked at how many people actually wanted to read this, and I am shocked that I have gotten to this point. After nearly giving up so many times because I'm a perfectionist who hates anything less than 200%, I am proud of it and I thank you for sticking around.**

 **Okay, enough of the mushy-gushy stuff.**

 **On with the story, yes?**

 **Mistakes are mine.**

* * *

 _(Seven Days Prior)_

 _Antonio shut the door to the room where Eva was lying on a bed, wrapped in bandages, and Noah was sitting bedside. His daughter pushed off the wall from where she'd been keeping watch, and he startled at her sudden appearance._

 _"Beyond what I can see, what else is there?" she asked quietly._

 _"Much of what you see is all that is, but there were a few injuries that went skin deep," he said. "Eva will live, of that I am sure, but she will need therapy for her shoulder, and her right leg will need time to set. I do not believe surgery will be necessary; however, I will keep an eye out for any complications just in case. The broken bones were set, the cuts were cleaned and wrapped, and the bruising will fade with time. I-_

 _"What about her head?" Santana interrupted._

 _Antonio sighed and folded his arms. "Despite my belief that she would heal better otherwise, Morales strongly suggested I place her in a medically induced coma so the swelling will go down. I eventually caved since she will be in a lot of pain and the amount of morphine to make it go away will essentially place her in a coma regardless, so I agreed to cut out the middleman. It will take time, but-_

 _"How long?"_

 _Antonio shot her an annoyed glare at the constant interruptions, but he asked, "What are you asking me?"_

 _"How long before she wakes?"_

 _"At least a week."_

 _"Okay," Santana muttered to herself. "I'll be back by then."_

 _"Wait, what? Where are you going? How can you leave her like this? She-_

 _"Has Noah," she sighed. Santana's eyes darkened slightly, and she added, "I need some time to recalibrate, Papi."_

 _Antonio studied his daughter, the lines on her face and the twitching in her limbs, and he gave a heavy sigh. "I thought it was my paranoia, but I guess I was right when I heard it in your voice when you called. It's been a long time since this has happened. I don't like you going away, but I know that you need to. Are you going to at least call when you get where you're going?" he asked._

 _"I'll send you a text," she said blandly._

 _"Very well. If she wakes up early-_

 _"I will be back in seven days. Regardless of if she wakes up earlier or not," Santana said sternly._

 _Antonio gave up and held his hands in the air, knowing a losing argument when he heard one. She stayed for only a moment longer, glancing at the door that separated her from Eva, but eventually, she gathered the nerve to walk down the stairs and out of the door. He didn't hear a car or a bike or anything for that matter. Antonio rushed to the nearest window and watched as his daughter trekked down the main road and vanished from sight. He wanted to run after her, beg her to stay, but he could see it all over her. His wife was the one who could tell when Santi was younger. He would watch as she brought her down from the edge many, many times, and he underestimated his preparedness for any future moments. Turning his eyes to the sky, Antonio apologized to his wife for not being able to actively take care of their daughter and lowered his chin to his chest. Steeling his nerves, Antonio stood up straight and forced himself to focus on the matter at hand. A young girl was fighting for her life, and he needed to focus on that to ensure that whatever was going on with his daughter would not happen again. He glanced one last time at the window and sighed._

 _"One week, mija," he whispered. "One week."_

* * *

Santana yawned as the car stopped in front of the house. She reached forward and paid the cabbie the fee, and practically stumbled from the taxi as she got out. One week felt a lot like years in that middle-of-nowhere cabin, and she wanted nothing more than to return to Eva before her self-imposed timeline. But Santana had a plan, and it would only work if she were in the right mindset. Thankfully, no one was in on her surprise, and she hoped that all would go according to how she excepted. Sighing and grabbing a bag from the backseat, Santana waved the cabbie off and stood in the driveway of the temporary home for her, her father, Noah, and Eva.

"Looks a lot less dreary than the last time I was here," she murmured.

"That's because your father busied himself with painting the porch and the front door."

Santana spun around and found Noah walking from the woods across the street. He was shirtless, naturally, and wearing a pair of basketball shorts. His hair was growing back, evidenced by the slight peach fuzz he had on his jaw, and the bald-headed nuisance she tolerated was turning into a man that she held a grudging respect for. She'd left him alone for a week, and instead of fighting her on it, he accepted it, and she hoped he stepped into that role of protector in her absence.

"Nice to see you haven't completely abandoned us," he said as he got closer.

"It was just a week," she replied.

"Eva woke up two days after you left, looking for you, and it broke her heart when we had to tell her that you weren't dead, just on your own because you were too unstable to stay around her."

Santana eyed the scars on Noah's chest, some fresher than most, and she glanced at his face. "I take it you've been the recipient of most of her anger?" she asked.

Noah barely batted an eye at the question and said, "Someone had too. That's why you left me here, isn't it?"

"No, Puckerman," she said. "I left you here because if it all went to shit, you would protect her with your life. I needed to know that in my absence, she would have the second-best watching over her as she slept. I trusted you to keep her safe."

"Well, I kept her safe. Now, I leave her in your capable hands. I want to shower without worrying someone is going to try and suffocate me with the shower curtain. She thinks that I should've done more in stopping you from leaving."

Santana nodded her head. "Yes, well, misplaced anger is the most dangerous. Go, shower, and relax. I'll take care of the raging Russian," she said.

"Gee, thanks."

Santana flipped off Noah as she began to walk up the porch stairs and instincts told her Eva was fully aware of her arrival. She cracked her neck and tightened her grip on the bag right before she opened the door. Two things happened at once: a fist flew towards her face just as a knife came dangerously close to ensuring she didn't have children. Twisting to the side, Santana was more concerned about the blade than the fist, so she avoided getting stabbed, but took a mean left hook to the jaw and stumbled into the door.

"YOU LEFT ME!"

There was another punch that definitely showed how much Eva had healed over the past several days, and there was a kick to her legs that caused her to hop around in pain. She didn't come in with the intentions of fighting, just controlling, but Eva was pressing buttons that only she could. Santana dodged another knife and blocked one kick, but the quickness of Eva came into play as she twisted her way into a roundhouse with the other leg. Santana took a massive hit to her jaw and blood pooled in her mouth. She spat it on the floor and was too disoriented to see the vase. Santana grunted as the vase smashed against the side of her head, and she dropped to her knees to catch her breath.

"WHAT IF I HAD DIED WHILE YOU WERE AWAY? HUH?!"

There were several seconds of silence before Santana's anger roared to life, and she turned just as Eva was about to punch her again. She dropped the bag and caught Eva's fist with one hand, using the other to snag Eva's top and yank her down to the floor. Santana straddled Eva's waist, and as soon as she looked into her eyes, her anger transformed into relief, and her emotions poured out of her in the worst way.

She cried.

"YOU WERE PRACTICALLY DEAD WHEN NOAH CARRIED YOU FROM THAT DAMN CASTLE!" Santana sobbed. "YOU FUCKING IDIOT! WHAT IF I DIDN'T COME GET YOU, HUH? WHAT IF I DIDN'T KNOW WHERE YOU WERE!? YOU WOULD BE DEAD, AND I WOULD HAVE NO CLUE UNTIL YOUR BODY WASHES UP ON SOME RIVER IN RUSSIA! YOU DON'T GET TO BE MAD AT ME FOR LEAVING!"

Eva tried to speak, but Santana wasn't finished.

"You should've have trusted me to find a way to keep you both safe," she hissed. "You should've have gone and tried to be the hero because now, Reagan is dead and you were almost dead with her. You cannot get mad at me for leaving to get a handle on my emotions! I LOST MY SISTER, EVA! The moment I get her back in my life, she gets taken from me, and I wasn't even there to try and save her! So NO! You don't get to be mad at me! You don't!"

By the end of it, Santana was breathing hard, and Eva was white as the curtains hanging in the living room. Neither one of them moved or spoke until a third party interrupted the suffocating tension.

"Is this a bad time to tell you that Quinn is on the phone for you?" Noah asked Santana.

She frowned and tore her eyes away from Eva, blood dripping down the side of her face. "What? Why would Quinn be calling for me? How did she know I was back?" she asked.

"She's been calling me ever since we went our separate ways, and every day since you left. I imagine the eight phone call was her luckiest one."

Santana scowled and held out her hand. Noah rolled his eyes and walked the phone over to her, slamming it down on her open palm.

"Hello?" she huffed.

 _ **"Oh, good, you're alive."**_

"What, Quinn?"

 ** _"I wanted to make sure you were alive since you weren't calling to see if we were alive."_**

"You had Tina."

 _ **"And yet…"**_

"Fuck, fine. I'm sorry, okay? I was still pretty peeved at you guys. I still am. But I should've at least made sure you made it out of Russia," Santana paused and added, "Wait, you are out of Russia, right?"

 ** _"We're in Lima."_**

Santana blinked and repeated, "Did you just say you were in Lima?"

Beneath her, Eva tensed just as Quinn said, **_"Yep. Living it up in good old Lima, Ohio."_**

"Why the hell did you go back there?"

 _ **"We had nowhere else to go."**_

"You had literally forty-nine other states to pick from!"

 ** _"Eh, Lima was the choice we made."_**

Santana pinched the bridge of her nose and said, "Is this the only reason you've called me?"

 _ **"Yes, that and to tell you that you need to bring your psychotic ass to Lima. You're needed."**_

"For what?"

 _ **"Oh, you know, murder mayhem and a little bit of everything in between."**_

Santana chewed on her bottom lip and sighed. "Give me twenty-four hours," she said. "I need to talk it over with my fiancée."

 _ **"Wonderful. Glad you haven't killed her, and she hasn't killed you."**_

"As I said, give me twenty-four hours," Santana said. "It may change by then."

 ** _"How romantic. Bye now."_**

Santana hung up and blindly passed the phone back to Noah, keeping her eyes on the girl under her body.

"Fiancée?" Eva repeated.

Santana scowled and bent down, her hand gripping Eva's jaw to keep her head in place. "You are still mine, regardless of your stupidity. I believe we need to talk this out like the old days, the way we used to handle our arguments," she whispered. "Don't you agree?"

Eva nodded slowly as Santana's words registered, and Santana released the grip she had on Eva's jaw. They stared at one another for a long time, each daring the other to make the first move when Noah reminded them that they weren't alone.

"I have no idea what's going on, but I don't think she's physically cleared for what you have in mind," he chimed in.

Santana ignored him and stared directly at Eva, whose eyes were nearly black and was squirming against the hardwood floor.

"Shut up, Noah, and go take your shower. Play some music, and if you hear screaming," Santana stopped and smiled, "turn it up louder."

Despite the vein-coursing, head-pounding, anger and pain she was feeling, Santana was happy that Eva was alive and capable of at least throwing a punch. She ached for her fiancée in the worst way and intended on taking out every ounce of anger, pain, and desperation that had her drowning in her own mind.

Regardless of Eva being "physically cleared" or not.

Quinn and the others could wait another day.


	39. Chapter 39

Noah trekked down to the end of the street with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a bag of takeout from the Chinese restaurant near the cabin. He purposely left the place after realizing Eva and Santana were ignoring him in favor of stripping each other down, putting fingers and tongues in places he didn't want to see. By the time he got to the cabin, he saw lights on downstairs and sighed. Taking the stairs two at a time, Noah jogged inside and glanced at the two figures hunched over the kitchen island, both with glasses clasped in their hands.

"We need to talk," Santana said, twirling her finger over the rim of her glass.

Noah glanced to the side, seeing the empty bottle of Jack Daniels resting near the trashcan, and shook his head. "This isn't going to turn me off my egg rolls, is it?" he asked.

"We have a problem back in Lima," Eva said coolly.

"What kind of problem?"

"Police officers digging too deep in the explosion and Russell Fabray sticking his nose in things that don't belong him," Santana murmured.

"Fabray is not a problem. He's a nuisance. The police officer thing though," Noah said. "Why now? That was almost two years ago."

Eva drained the rest of her drink and slammed the glass on the counter. "Sam," she murmured. "There was enough left of him to make an ID on the body, and that raised a few red flags. If he was supposed to have died in an explosion in Lima, Ohio, then-

"How can he be dead from an explosion in Miami?" Noah finished, opening his box of noodles. "Damn."

"My exact sentiments," Santana muttered.

Noah abandoned his noodles and walked over to the fridge. He opened the door and hunched down, dragging out a six-pack. "We have to go back to Lima," he said, closing the door back.

"Yep," Eva said.

"As if we've come back to life," he said.

"Yep," Santana said.

"Fuck."

* * *

"I'm sorry. You said what now?" Sue said into the phone. "Going back to where?"

 _ **"Lima."**_

"That's what I thought you said. Why in the hell are you going back there?" Sue hissed.

 _ **"Russell and a man named Officer Ryan Forbes."**_

"F- wait, Russell? I thought you took care of him before you left."

 ** _"It wasn't as high of a priority back then. I had other things to worry about."_**

"You underestimated him and now he-

 ** _"I didn't call for a lecture,"_** Eva snapped.

"No, but you're getting one. You underestimated him, and now he's causing trouble for you. You show up to Lima, he dies, then all hands point to you, and you know it. Don't do anything until Jake and I get there. Is that clear?"

There was silence, and Sue was about to say something when Eva sighed and whispered, _ **"It's crystal, Mama."**_

Sue sighed at the tone and the name, knowing Eva only called her that when she was hurt or feeling guilty, and she said, "I'm sorry I yelled, but you know you can't rush into this. You're returning to a town where they think you're dead and you cannot rush this. We need to plan this out. Unless you're trying to kill the entire town."

 ** _"Is that an option?"_**

"No."

 ** _"Fine."_**

Sue pulled the phone away from her ear at the dial tone and pinched the bridge of her nose. She turned to the side and saw Jake actively pretending to be focused on a bowl of cereal, and she muttered, "You already knew about this, didn't you?"

"Their names popped up a few times yesterday in a police search from a computer in Columbus, Ohio, and I figured that wasn't a coincidence. My chances of coming with you were slim, but I didn't want to be caught unprepared. I have a bag packed, and we have a flight at five a.m."

"In the morning?"

"That's usually what a.m. means," Jake said dryly.

"It's not that. It's just that's not enough time for me to get back to California-

"Your stuff is being packed and shipped as we speak. I reached out to your second in command, explained to him that you were going on vacation and he agreed to pack up a few of your clothes and necessities. He said he'll have it shipped as soon as he could," Jake interrupted.

Sue blinked and walked off, muttering to herself, and she missed the smug smirk gracing Jake's face as he finished his cereal.

* * *

Eva stared out of the window, an act she was growing weary of experiencing. She hadn't managed to stay settled for longer than a day, and it felt like her entire world was always shifting. Russia, New York, California, Ohio, Miami, Russia, Maine, and then back to Ohio. It was a cruel cycle of moving homes, estates, and condos that left her feeling homesick for a place she'd really never been. She thought Miami would be it for them, that they could move on, but it turned out to be yet another stop in a long journey of various points of residence. She thought she and Santana would be able to get married in the backyard of their dream home with their family and friends surrounding them without the threat of their lives hanging over their heads. She thought she would have Sam as her best man and Santana would have Reagan as her maid of honor, a topic they'd discussed quite heavily before it all went to shit.

Noah wouldn't be so tense and sharp all the time, his eyes gazing around before ever softening when he enters a room. Sue wouldn't be on edge. Antonio wouldn't be monitoring every step she took, every breath she made, and it wouldn't feel like she was walking on glass around her fiancée. They may have worked out their physical and mental conflicts, but their emotional conflict weighed heavier than the cast along her leg. She toyed with the ring around her right ring finger, brand new after losing it when she was kidnapped, and ran her thumb over the gem. Eva didn't feel comfortable wearing it on her left hand, not feeling as if it was deserved yet, and that added on to the list of things on her mind. Sighing, Eva was so lost in her thoughts that she missed Santana sitting beside her and the warmth that encompassed her hand.

"Your color has returned."

Eva jumped and twisted to the side, blinking in confusion. "What?" she said.

"Your color," Santana murmured. "You aren't as pale as you were when I found you."

"I- um, thank you?"

"It was a compliment."

"I know."

Santana intertwined their fingers and did that thing where she stared at the contrasting colors, her eyes unreadable and her face blank as stone. Eva shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the tension brewing between them, and searched her mind for something, anything, to say. She hadn't had moments in the relationship where she felt as if she were the one struggling to keep it afloat, but Santana had a way of sucking the confidence from her system and replacing it with bone-numbing fear.

"I still want to marry you," Santana whispered. "Very much so."

Rocks settled in her stomach at the confession, knowing there was a but coming, and she said, "I'm glad. I still want to marry you too."

Santana nodded and released her hand. "Good. Now stop worrying about our relationship and put the ring on the right hand, please. I don't want you going back around Finnept and the other Glee-diots without some incentive for them to behave."

Eva's mind slammed to a complete stop, and she sputtered, "W-what?"

"What was confusing about that statement?" Santana asked, slightly annoyed. "Do you not want them to know that we're-

"NO! I mean, yes, but that's not what I meant! I was talking about what you said before all of that. You- you're not still mad at me?"

"Of course, I am. You always piss me off, and I always piss you off. It's just an aspect of our relationship we have to learn how to communicate about. I don't blame you for Reagan's death. He was going to kill her, anyway. I blame the man hopefully buried under a pile of rubble along with Bostitch. I blame everyone involved, but I don't blame you. You did what you thought was the right thing and I can't fault you for that. Not anymore. We'll be fine. Once we handle this unnecessary shit back in the shit hole that is Lima, Ohio, then we can have that dream wedding and move the fuck on with our lives."

Eva shot across the seat the best she could and kissed Santana until her still healing ribs screamed for relief from the pressure the seatbelt placed on them. Eva didn't move entirely away and had the goofiest smile on her face as she shared a few small and slow kisses with her future wife. It was perfect right until her future father in law cleared his throat and motioned for her to sit back upright.

"If you want these damn ribs to heal, then stop twisting and jerking and doing all the shit I told you not to do," he huffed. He pulled a stethoscope from around his neck and did that thing that doctors do when they're trying to check on he breathing. She knew there was a technical term for it, but she didn't care enough to think about it. All she cared about was the lingering taste of apple pie and cinnamon on her lips and the happiness replacing the dread spreading throughout her fractured chest.

* * *

"Do you think they're coming?"

"Yup."

"You think Santana's still mad?"

"Nah."

"Are you going to give me more than one-word answers?"

"Nope."

"You're so infuriating! I thought that a change of name and personality change would help with your all-around persona, but it didn't, and it doesn't! You're as annoying and irritating as you were when we first arrived."

"You'll live, Brittany," Tina drawled. "Plus, I could say the same for you. I thought you would calm down for once in your life, but instead, you're taking this Heather thing a little too seriously."

"Well you told me to put my all into the identity, and so I am!" Brittany huffed. "What's wrong with that?"

"I'm just saying, you and Dianna over there are starting to turn into downright hippies, and it's freaking me out," Tina said, gesturing to a somber Quinn.

"We are not turning into hippies!"

"Okay eco-warriors, what's the damn difference?"

Brittany let out a grunt/growl and got out of the car, storming off to the hangar where they were meeting Eva and the others.

"Should we go after her?" Quinn murmured.

"No. She just needs some time."

"Oh."

Tina sighed and lifted up her hand, brushing the hair from Quinn's face to stare at Russell's handiwork. She twitched a little and dropped her hand.

"I should have been in there with you."

Quinn snorted and folded her arms. "He would've killed you and what then? It was a long time coming. I'm surprised he didn't finish the job," she said.

"Well, Brittany's knife throwing had gotten better over the last few days, and I imagine the blade protruding from his crotch caused him to second guess himself."

"Or maybe it was the sudden Asian ball of fury throwing random items at his person while I crawled to safety," Quinn said wryly.

Tina turned red and said quickly, "I was only trying to protect you."

"And the whispered reassurances in my ear while Brittany was pre-occupied? I was awake enough to hear those, you know."

Bright lights in the distance was a welcome relief, and Tina exited the car hurriedly. She would've made a run for it had it not been for the fact Quinn couldn't walk on her own. Tina clenched her jaw and helped Quinn out of the car, ignoring the smile on the girl's face, and waited for Brittany to catch up with them before they made their slow journey to the landing plane.

It took a few minutes for the plane to stop and for the doors to open, but when they did, Tina was glad to see that Eva was up and walking with a smile on her face, a smile that vanished the moment she saw Quinn. Had it not been for the cast on her leg, Tina imagined Eva would've run over and demanded to know what happened.

Instead, Eva moved as fast as she could, and the moment she got close enough, she did precisely what Tina thought she would do.

"What happened?"

"I ran into my father at the convenience store at five in the morning the same night we first arrived here. He dragged me back behind the store and slammed my face into the brick wall so hard that I am now semi-blind in my right eye, I have a ruptured blood vessel in my left eye, and as you can see, I have a hard time standing and walking on my own. Hence why I said you needed to get here on the phone. Took you a day later than I planned, but that's fine. Thankfully I don't have a broken nose. That would've been the worst."

"Worse than being half blind?" Santana asked.

"Eh, you pick some you lose some."

"I'm almost positive that's not how that phrase goes."

"Nice to see you too, Santana, or it would be if I could actually see you. You're like a blob of brown and red. Guess that's not much different than before, huh?"

"Well, you look like shit to me, but I'm glad you're an alive piece of shit and not a dead one."

"Enough, you two," Eva chimed. "Focus. We need to figure out what to do next."

"Can it wait? I think we have company," Noah said, pointing to the headlights in the distance.

"Yeah, company with sirens and legally allowed to shoot us on sight if they think we're a threat," Tina said, noticing the blue lights heading their way.

"Welcome back to Lima, fucking, Ohio, everyone," Eva sighed.


	40. Chapter 40

_**Audentes** **fortuna** **iuvat**_

 _ **-D19-**_

* * *

Eva watched the cars come to a stop. She turned to Noah and asked him to call Xavier and Sue, check with them and figure out when they were going to arrive. Santana came up beside her and whispered in her ear, telling her to play it carefully, that news of their resurrection would hit hard and fast. Eva inclined her head to show she understood and even with a cast on her leg, she managed to hobble to the front of the group. She smiled as the first officer exited his vehicle, and after glancing at his uniform, quickly gathered it was the same Officer digging a little too deep into their business and made a mental note to do some digging of her own.

"Hello, Officer Forbes," she greeted. "How very nice to meet you."

"It's Detective, but the feeling is mutual. Very nice to meet a living corpse."

Eva clicked her tongue against her teeth and shrugged. "My apologies. As for the living corpse, things happen in life beyond our control, and sometimes you have to make drastic decisions to save the people you love."

"And the dead bodies found buried and spread across your former estate?"

"No idea. I wasn't privy to the comings and goings of the guests in my former home. A child usually stays in a child's place."

"The bodies weren't that old. Some as fresh as a few weeks when we found them."

"Has the name Warren Evans slipped its way into whatever files you're getting this information from?"

"It has."

"Yes, well, I recently discovered he was operating a shady business inside the four walls of my sanctuary. You can ask him about those bodies."

"Oh? And do you know where Mr. Evans is at the moment?"

"Last I heard he was in Russia."

Forbes made a face and said, "I'm not a fan of the cold."

"That's why vodka was invented, Detective. Keeps you warm on those cold Russian nights."

"How would you know?"

Eva cocked an eyebrow and asked, "Why are you here?"

"Overheard on the radio that some suspicious activity was happening at the plane field, figured I'd bring a couple of my guys and check it out."

"And now that you've checked it out?"

"I stand by the original call made. Now, look-" Forbes paused and took a step forward. Eva held up her right hand, halting Noah from moving forward as well. There was a short moment of tension, Eva making sure her group stayed still, and Detective Forbes laughed. "Nice protection," he said, jerking his chin at Noah.

"You'll have to excuse my brother. Some habits just don't die."

"You're right. Some things just don't stay dead anymore. Like your boy, what was his name, Sam? Samuel Evans? Son of the man you claim is responsible for those bodies? Yeah. You would have to imagine my surprise to find that he died in an explosion in Miami after supposedly dying in one here in Lima. Funny, isn't it? How people seem to get blown up a lot around you."

Eva twitched slightly at the mention of Sam. "You would do well to keep Sam's name out of any future conversations, Detective," she said coolly.

"Is that a threat?"

"No. I don't make threats."

"Why? Are they beneath someone like you?"

Eva bristled at the accusation and growled, "Not at all. I prefer to make points. Would you care for a demonstration?"

Noah grabbed her arm and leaned forward. "Calm down. He's baiting you," he whispered.

Eva yanked her arm out of his grip and chuckled, glancing at the sky for a moment. "Hmm. As fun as this has been, I am tired. If you want to ask me any more questions, by all means, call my personal line," she said, looking back down and smiling. She gestured for her group to go to their respective cars. Eva had no idea how Tina managed to get two vehicles there but decided it was best not to ask in front of the cops.

"Nice ring," Forbes pointed out.

Eva frowned and put her left hand in her pocket. "Thank you," she said.

"Does the lucky fella know what kind of woman he's about to commit his life too?"

She smiled and turned her back on the officers, sliding her arm into the crook of Noah's elbow. "Be careful, Forbes," she called out over her shoulder. "Assumptions can be deadly."

"Another one of those non-threats of yours?" he shouted.

Eva twisted her head, and her smile turned vicious. "Quite. Have a good night, Detective. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other really soon."

"Yeah, you can count on it, Miss Berry."

His parting comment didn't go unnoticed by Eva and the entire group. As she hobbled away, Noah whispered, "He called you Berry."

"I know," she whispered back. "Which means Forbes is either testing me or-

"He's got you pegged as the wrong father's child," Noah finished, glancing down at her.

* * *

"Sound off," Eva ordered, sitting on a chair in the den.

The sun shone into the den of the house they were renting, smack dab in the middle of town, and Eva was tempted to burn the place down just for the hell of it. It was too bright and too open, it made her feel like a walking – hobbling – target, and she hated it.

"Xavier."

"Quinn."

"Brittany."

"Sue."

"Jake."

"Noah."

"Tina."

Eva rolled her eyes when silence followed Tina and glanced at the woman sitting on the arm of her chair. "Really?" she asked. "You couldn't humor me?"

"Why would I? We woke up together, we bathed together, we ate together, and now we're sitting together. You know I'm here," Santana scoffed.

"You're annoying even this early in the morning."

"And you'll have to live with it for the rest of your life, now focus. We have two problems, which one takes priority?"

"That's not even a question anymore," Eva sighed. "Look what Russell did to Quinn."

"Okay, that's fair, but how would we even-"

"I don't want to go after him yet," Quinn blurted, her hands clenched in her lap.

"You don't?" Eva asked.

Quinn lowered her head and said, "No. I'm not ready to face him again so soon. That night, I saw a side of him I had never seen before, and it scared me. It's still scaring me. Regardless of the injuries, I see him in my mind. I remember the fear as he yanked my head back to smash it against the brick once more. I want to make sure that I can face him without freezing up."

"Plus, he isn't in town," Sue chimed in. "Russell left early this morning. Jake and I passed him on our way into Lima. He was leaving, we were entering, and he seemed to be in a hurry. I have no idea if he returned or not."

"He hasn't," Jake muttered. "I put a notification on his license plate to let me know when he passes through a security camera or police radar in the town."

"When in the world did you have time to do that?" Sue asked, exasperated.

Jake frowned and held his iPad in the air. "I have it on me at all times. What did you think I was doing in the backseat the drive over here?" he asked.

"Playing Candy Crush or something kids your age are supposed to be doing on their iPads in the backseat on the drive over," she huffed.

"I wasn't playing Candy Crush on my iPad when I was his age," Noah said wryly.

"Yes, well, be thankful your half-brother hasn't picked up your preferences for BBW or Big Tits," Sue deadpanned.

"I prefer the ones a little bit more realistic than that."

"Move the fuck on," Eva interrupted. "If you don't mind."

"What my lovely fiancée is trying to say," Santana said, "is that Jake's obsession with being one step ahead of everyone has benefited us. It lets us breathe for a moment so we can figure out just why the Detective is so interested in Eva."

"You just met him three hours ago," Noah pointed out. "How could you know that about Jake so soon?"

Santana shifted and folded her arms. "I've, um, met him before today," she admitted. "He helped me get some information that I needed not too long ago."

"Wait, what?"

Eva glanced at Sue and saw the older woman purposely looking at the floor, and Eva cleared her throat. She held up her hand and said, "We can talk about that later, but Santana has a point. Does anyone have any idea who this Detective is, where he came from, why the sudden interest? Anything?"

"Hold on, I have some information that might help, though it probably would've benefited me to bring my phone with me instead of leaving it in the kitchen," Quinn sighed.

"I can get-

"No, I can do it," she said quickly, cutting off Brittany.

Quinn used the couch edge to lift herself off the cushion but stumbled for a moment. Once she regained her footing, she smacked Tina's hands away and carefully made her way to the kitchen. Everyone watched her, tensing each time it seemed as if she were going to run into a wall or a table, but she made it to the kitchen with a silent barefoot Santana walking behind her. It took a few minutes, Santana's fists clenched at her side to keep from intervening as Quinn slowly made her way back to the living room. Once she was settled in her seat, Santana made her way back to the arm of Eva's chair, and Quinn snorted.

"Santana, I've known you for years, and you've been wearing the same perfume since high school. I could smell it the entire time."

"I was only quiet, so you wouldn't get confused. Aren't you using like echolocation or something, Helen Keller?"

"I'm not a whale! And that doesn't even make any sense!"

"Semantics."

Quinn exhaled sharply through her nose but smiled and eventually said, "Thank you for making sure I made it."

"You're a pain in my ass, but I'm not going to stand by and watch you stumble your way off a cliff because you're too stubborn to ask for help."

"Sounds a lot like love to me."

"Don't you have something important to tell us?"

Quinn laughed and nodded her head. "That same day that Russell attacked me, an officer approached me while I was lying on the stretcher. He asked the EMTs for some space, and even in the amount of pain I was in with my eyes, my ears were working just fine, and I heard him speak, and as some of us learned already, he has a very distinct voice."

"Yeah, he sounds like he smokes eight cigarettes an hour," Santana said.

"Right. Well, anyway, I think Forbes overestimated how much damage had been done to my eyes. I can still see out of one, well, see enough to recognize a name on someone's uniform at close range."

"Where were Tina and Brittany?" Eva asked.

"In the back of a police car," Tina deadpanned. "We were temporarily restrained for the damage we did to Russell."

"Oh, that explains why I rode to the hospital by myself," Quinn muttered. "Regardless, Forbes leaned down and whispered to me that he knew who I was, what I was involved in, and that he would spend his entire career need be on connecting me to Rachel as well as the bodies found on the old estate. I wasn't thrown off about him calling you Rachel, as that's how everyone here knows you, but it did strike me as odd that he would care so much about those bodies considering we took care of the family."

Eva grimaced and rubbed her chin. "Right, about that. We only somewhat took care of the family," she said.

"Sort of?" Santana repeated. "I thought you and Reagan had that under control."

"We did. Kind of."

"If you don't-

"Peace, Koroleva," Eva soothed. "I only meant that we left the father and mother alive."

"YOU WHAT?!" Santana shouted. "Are you INSANE?!"

Eva growled and snapped, "Mind your place. Just because your liberties extend further than most doesn't mean you can speak to me any kind of way, **_Lopez_**."

Santana narrowed her eyes at the emphasis on her last name, and she said, "You will do well to remember the agreement we made."

Eva turned red and ignored the comment. "If you would let me explain, then I will gladly tell you that Reagan and I agreed to leave the father and mother alive because they were not at fault for their sons' misdeeds."

"I see. If that's the case, then you're going to love hearing this," Quinn said sarcastically.

"What makes you say that?"

"There was a daughter."

"Come again?"

"The Corona family recently underwent a change in leadership. With the youngest son and the eldest son being out of the running, the daughter became next in line to take over," Quinn said slowly. "And much to the surprise of everyone, she provided evidence of her being the last Corona heir and explained she wanted nothing to do with the family until her father begged her to keep the Corona name alive."

"What aren't you telling me?" Eva sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. The growing headache became worse when Quinn told her the reason why Forbes was so interested in them.

"As I said, the daughter didn't want to join the family. She wanted to go to school, become a mechanical engineer, and only applied to three schools. All of them in America, and one of them being, uh, Ohio State University."

"Of course, it was."

"OSU is where she met an older gentleman, not too much older, but he was a cop who helped her after she'd been mugged while walking home. Long story short, they fell in love, got married after a few months, and then several weeks later, the daughter is taking on the mantle as head of the family while the officer-turned-detective just so happens to discover discrepancies in a small town cold case two hours away from where he is staying with his new wife."

"His new wife who just so happens to be the sister of the two men we killed and one who we sent to her parents in pieces," Eva added.

"And someone who holds a massive grudge against the Collective."

Everyone turned back to Quinn, and she made a face. "I get the impression you're all staring at me," she said warily.

"We are. Keep going," Santana ordered softly.

"Okay. While I was recovering, Tina helped me look into this Forbes guy, and she mentioned off-handedly that Forbes was married to a woman named Marisol Corona-Forbes. That name, as awful as it is, rung a few bells because I remember that name from the night they visited. Even though we were locked in the armory, I still remember the names from dinner. Anyway, guess who signed for the youngest son's body when they announced the names of the people found dead on the estate property?"

Eva threw an arm over her head as she sunk down in her seat. "Let me guess, Marisol Corona," she muttered.

"Right in one."

"So, hypothetically, if I were the dead man's sister, I would go to my officer boyfriend at the time and ask him to look into the owner of the estate to figure out what happened, why it happened, and how it happened," Tina sighed.

"And, once the name Leroy Berry pops up in ownership, I, as an indirect member of the criminal underground, would recognize that name. Things start making sense, and assumptions are made, so when a body similar to the DNA structure of Samuel Evans is found in a Miami explosion, realizations are had," Santana added next.

"I then convince my officer-turned-detective boyfriend to look a little deeper and somehow conclude that Samuel Evans was still alive until that point in Miami, which would imply that-

"Everyone else assumed dead at the estate would be alive as well," Santana finished. "Everyone except my deceased sibling."

"But, while looking into the estate, I stumble across information that says Leroy Berry died before that explosion at the estate, then fingers would point to the next best suspect, which would be-

"The daughter, which is me, or rather Rachel," Eva said. "That's why he called me Berry that night."

"And it would explain why he's so gung-ho on connecting you to the murders."

"Because if he does, then that means his wife can step in and take care of it herself in vindication," Sue said, finally speaking up. "The non-legal way."

"You know what that means, don't you Eva?" Xavier asked, making himself known.

Eva dropped her arm and looked over at her godfather. "I do," she said. She stood up from her chair and wiped her hands on her skirt. She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair before she asked if everyone had something nice to wear for the weekend.

"What's happening over the weekend?" Brittany asked slowly.

"We will be hosting a dinner party. Again."


	41. Chapter 41

**Song is 'Mine' by Beyonce and Drake.**

 **Santana = Let your Queen take care of you**

 **Mistakes are mine.**

 **Thank you to every who still reads this. I love your support and it is much appreciated**

 **;-)**

* * *

Eva leaned against the door frame of the bedroom and placed her hand over her chest. Her heartbeat seemed incapable of slowing down as she watched Santana sway across the room, her voice echoing in their still empty bedroom. Beyond their bed and their dresser, there wasn't much in there. Their wardrobe was severely depleted after both explosions, and they were getting ready for a shopping trip to Columbus since it seemed as if they were staying longer than a couple of weeks. Quinn, Brittany, and Tina were staying in Lima, mostly because neither wanted to leave Quinn alone for too long, and they were handling the decorations for their impromptu parlay on Saturday evening.

 _On my mind, I pass my bedtime_

 _No rest at the kingdom_

 _Alone in my place, my heart is away_

 _All that I can think of is_

 _We should get married_

 _We should get married_

 _Let's stop holding back on this_

 _And lets get carried away_

Santana's voice had changed a lot since their Glee days. It was raspier, fuller, and it struck chords deep within in Eva's chest. In their moments alone, moments where they let their guard down, Eva fell more in love with the woman behind the scenes.

 _I just wanna say, you're mine, you're mine_

 _I just wanna say, you're mine, you're mine_

 _Fuck what you heard, you're mine, you're mine_

 _All I'm really asking for is you_

Eva gently closed their bedroom door and stood with her back against it. Santana, draped in nothing but a white silk robe, had her hair bunched at the top of her head showing off her natural brown while the tips still held remnants of the honey blonde highlights she'd had in Miami. Even as she danced in the middle of the room, her body arching and contorting in familiar ways, Eva still was held captive by the words slipping from her lips.

 _You're mine, you're mine_

 _I just wanna say, you're mine, you're mine_

 _Fuck what you heard, you're mine, you're mine_

 _As long as you know who you belong to_

Eva was barely shocked when Santana spun around and looked her right in the eyes, speaking the next part in rhythm with her walk.

 _I gotta pull up on you_

 _You gon' make me have to pull up on you_

 _Don't go ghost on me Ima go thriller on you Ima just_

 _Ima let my hands do the talking when I see you baby girl_

Santana slowly undid the tie around her robe and cocked her head, pinning Eva in place with dark eyes that often stole whatever strength Eva had when she was in Santana's presence.

 _I miss feeling on you, I miss everything that's real about you_

 _And that's everything about you that's just how I feel about you_

 _Been about you and I'm still about you but_

 _We ain't finished talking_

 _I told you_

 _You don't need to worry about them bitches_

 _All them fives need to listen when the ten is talking_

Eva scowled at the last comment, remembering a time in Miami when a woman got a little too tipsy and put her hands up Santana's skirt at an event. In her distraction, she missed nimble fingers unbuttoning her pants and groaned when Santana pressed her body against hers. Freshly painted lips brushed against her ear and whispered, "Fuck what you heard, you're mine, you're mine. As long as you know who you belong to."

"We don't have time," Eva whined. "We have to leave in-

"You and I both know they won't leave without us," Santana murmured, tugging down Eva's pants.

"But-

"Pust' tvoya koroleva raduyet tebya," Santana pleaded softly.

"No fair," Eva hissed.

Santana grinned and toyed with the waistband of Eva's boxers. "Why? Would you prefer it in Italian? I know you love that language."

Eva blushed at the reminder of the first night they slept together, bucking her hips at the fingers between her legs, and whined, "Koroleva."

"I haven't made love to you in a long time," Santana said, circling Eva's clit with her index finger. "Not since the day we did that scavenger hunt or whatever it was when you were flirting with that Irish chick."

Eva smiled and spread her legs the best she could. "Oh yeah, I remember her. Whatever happened to her, by the way?" she asked playfully.

Santana pinched Eva's clit for the question, and Eva bit through her lip to keep from screaming out loud "You know damn well what-

"SANTANA! EVA! Get your ASSES down here so we can GO!" Noah shouted up the stairs.

There was a pause before he added, "YOU GUYS CAN HAVE SEX LATER! JUST COME ON!"

Eva was prepared to go to Columbus sexually frustrated, but obviously, her fiancée had other plans. Santana opened the door, a strange look on her face, and she shifted their bodies so that Eva was backed up against the wall in the hallway with Santana pressed up against her. Eva had no warning or preparation as Santana inserted two fingers inside of her, moving at such a relentless pace that Eva couldn't hold in her high-pitched moans. Outside of their brief moment in the cabin, Eva and Santana hadn't been as affectionate with one another as before. It was attributed to injuries, annoyance, and familial deaths, but at that moment, Eva didn't care about the why. She was just mad that she'd forgotten that the 'how' felt so damn good.

"I forgot how wet you get when we do stuff like this," Santana whispered in her ear.

"It's not the action, but the person," Eva panted.

"Oh?"

"Y-yes," Eva whined, trying and failing to curl her leg around Santana's waist.

"No, no moving."

Eva said nothing, and regardless, even if she tried to speak, her words would've meant nothing as Santana added another finger, bringing her free hand down to rub on Eva's clit. The speed combined with the intensity and the fact they were in broad view of anyone who decided to walk up the stairs brought Eva to climax faster than she wanted. She leaned forward and bit down on Santana's neck to muffle her scream, and no sooner than after she came, a voice cleared from the end of the hall.

"I might not be able to see, but I can damn sure hear."

Santana chuckled and removed her fingers, sucking them clean before she winked at Eva. She then turned to Quinn and said, "You can see well enough. Did you enjoy the free show?"

Quinn snorted and folded her arms. "I did. Too bad I don't have twenty-twenty vision anymore because damn if that looked as hot as it sounded, I'd subscribe every night."

"You still can. We'd even give you a discount. I'm sure you can find other ways to pay off your debt."

"I'll have to talk to my attorney, but we can definitely work something out."

"My people will call your people."

"Your people ARE my people, dumbass."

"God, you're as annoying as you were when you weren't handicapped."

"Considering I can still beat your ass without both eyes, you should be careful how you speak to me."

Santana stuck out her tongue, but Eva noticed that the moment Brittany came up the stairs and into the hallway, Quinn's face changed and she seemed to focus on the spot above Santana's head.

"Hey! What are you doing up and out of bed? I told you I would be right back!" Brittany scolded Quinn.

"I heard them talking, and I wanted to say hi," Quinn said blandly.

Eva frowned at the tone, so did Santana, and they wondered what caused the sudden mood change. Brittany balanced two drinks in one hand and used the other to lightly push Quinn back into the room.

"You need to rest, and the doctor said that you don't need to do any unnecessary walking around. You'll stress your brain and your sight."

"I feel fine," Quinn huffed.

"Doesn't matter. Go."

Brittany barely spared them a glance as she practically pushed Quinn back into the bedroom, and shut the door behind her. There was muted shouting, mostly on Brittany's part, but Eva noted that Quinn barely responded. She would've said something, but a sudden appearance of Tina caused her to pause. Tina read her face and sighed.

"It's okay, I already know about them. I sleep in the room beside them, remember? Whenever Quinn calls me in there, it's like walking into a cloud of tension. It gets worse when I share the bed with her to help her sleep."

"You sleep in the bed with Quinn?" Santana asked.

"Depends. She gets nightmares."

"But… **YOU** …sleep **IN THE** bed **WITH** her?"

Tina made a face. "I heard you the first time. You didn't have to repeat yourself. But yes, I sleep with her. It's purely platonic."

Santana cocked her eyebrow, and Eva knew there was a conversation to be had later about her reaction, but Eva had other things to focus on. She asked how long had it been weird and Tina shrugged.

"Brittany's been like that ever since we brought Quinn back from the hospital. I don't know what happened between them when I wasn't there, but it feels like Quinn is mad at Brittany about something. I asked her about it, and she pretty much did that thing where she-

"Ices you out and treats you like a second-hand citizen?" Santana guessed. At Tina's nod, she added, "Yeah, she only does that when she feels like she needs to protect someone against something."

"Okay, that makes sense, but-" Eva said distractedly, pausing momentarily because she realized Santana was still standing outside in an open robe. Once she pushed her fiancée back into their room, silently telling her to get dressed, Eva turned to Tina and continued, "What is she trying to protect you from?"

"I have no idea. All I know is that when I got back to the hospital to take Quinn back here, Brittany was acting weird and Quinn was clenching the arms of her wheelchair so hard that her knuckles turned white. It was weird, and as I said, when I got Quinn alone long enough to ask, she froze up on me."

The door re-opened behind her, and she instinctively grabbed Santana's hand. Eva chewed on her bottom lip and weighed her options. She could push Quinn and Brittany in the only way she could, but that would only be a last resort. Rubbing her forehead, Eva sighed and stepped closer to Tina.

Lowering her voice, she said, "You need to figure out what's going on between them. Spy, push, or just sneak around, but figure out what the hell happened between them because the last thing I need is them being dysfunctional when I have someone trying to ruin my life."

"Again," Santana deadpanned.

Eva ignored her and smiled tightly at Tina. "My point is," she said, "Figure it out before this damn party because if you don't, I will, and no one will like my methods of getting information out of them."


	42. Chapter 42

**I am so happy to be nearing the end of this. I hope no one got attached to any other characters in this.**

 ** _watashi wa mō kinpatsu oni ni tsukaenai_ = "I serve the blonde demon no more."**

 **Mistakes are mine.**

 **Much love everyone,**

 **D19**

* * *

It was hard being Eva's go-to without Sam around, but he was adjusting.

"Where are we going?" he asked, scooting up from the backseat. He glanced at Eva in the passenger's seat, and she looked up from her phone, sighing at him.

"We have the furniture for the house, some new clothes, and I think that's the big stuff out of the way. We can go to the grocery store on Saturday morning, but we need some toys. Again. I made an appointment with an associate in Dayton."

"Associate?" Noah repeated.

"A friend," she said vaguely.

Noah rolled his eyes and turned to Santana. "Do you know where we're going? Who we're going to meet?" he asked.

She barely took her eyes off the road, her eyes hidden behind sunglasses, and she said, "Yes. She told me the same night we met Forbes."

"You two made this decision days ago? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because the people in this car earned our trust. We were originally going by ourselves, but Sue and Xavier convinced us to take at least one person. You, Noah, earned mine by stepping up where S-" Eva paused and swallowed roughly before she cleared her throat and continued, "where Sam left off, and Jake, Santana told me what you did for her, for me, and that alone jumped you ahead of the others. Plus we figured Noah would need some male company while we shopped."

"Good on you," Jake said.

"What- I, listen," Noah interrupted, giving Jake a weird look. "Can I ask why you didn't tell the others?" he asked.

"They have their own drama to work out, and I don't want to have to second guess the people behind me."

Jake scrunched his face and asked hesitantly, "Didn't they just help you figure out why Forbes is after you?"

Eva smiled and turned around, winking at him. "They didn't tell me anything I didn't already know," she said. "Xavier figured it out before they did, but we all have our roles to play."

"Wait, Xavier told you?!" Noah shouted. "When?"

Santana used her free hand to mush Noah's face and pushed him back into the seat, saying, "Please get out of my ear. I'm trying to concentrate, and Xavier sent Eva an email using the encryption code your brother set up for Sue."

Noah grumbled at the act and refrained from flicking the ear of the woman driving the car. He huffed and said, "But when? When did Xavier find out about him?"

"The same time as we did, but he and Sue move faster than us."

"Sue had help!" Jake protested defensively.

"I didn't say she didn't," Eva said dryly.

"Oh."

Noah clamped a hand over his brother's mouth and huffed, "I'm confused!"

"Wouldn't be the first time, would it Puckerman?" Santana muttered.

"Santana, if you weren't driving, I'd…," Noah trailed off into a cough when he saw Eva's face, and said, "Anyway, can you simplify it for me?"

Eva cocked an eyebrow and nodded. "Something else is going on, and I'm afraid of what it means. As is Xavier."

"Why would Xavier be…oh no, you can't possibly be thinking that! What about what happened with Russell!"

"How did he know Quinn was in town? He just so happened to be in the same place as her? Come on, Noah, in our line of work, do you really believe in coincidences after everything we've been through?"

"But it's Quinn! She's been with us! She's-

"Not the only one we're looking into," Santana chimed in, reaching over with her free hand to grab Eva's. "Look, Eva and I don't like it any more than you do, but we both assumed loyalty and family were synonymous, but they aren't. The experience with Warren literally and figuratively opened our eyes to look closer into the ones we have around each other."

"I didn't do it with Quinn because of Xavier, and I didn't do it with Brittany because she's been here for the longest next to Sam. Tina's an open book, and I doubt that's even her real name," Eva said.

"I- but- you-," Noah stopped and dropped his hand off Jake's mouth. "Why now?"

"Loose ends," Eva whispered. "We all have them."

"He who cuts them first cuts them last," Jake said sagely.

Noah glanced at his brother and sighed, "That doesn't make any sense, Jake."

"But you got my point."

Noah ignored him in favor of watching Eva and Santana as they drove. Santana hadn't let go of Eva's hand, and Eva's knuckles were white as her leg bounced in the front seat. He wondered just how long the seeds of doubt had been planted, and what would be the outcome.

* * *

Well, he got his answer about the outcome.

"I would ask how we got to this point, but I guess it doesn't matter," Noah sighed, rinsing his hands in the sink.

"I've never seen her so angry," Jake whimpered, still holding his head with his hands.

Noah glanced at his brother in the mirror and said, "You did better than I did the first time I saw her kill someone."

Jake looked up with red eyes and sniffed. "I did?" he asked.

"You did. I threw up and passed out. Sam had to hose me off and wouldn't stop laughing while he did it."

There was a pause before Jake asked softly, "Do you think she's going to regret bringing me?"

The door opened behind Jake, and Noah dried his hands off on a paper towel. "Ask her yourself."

Jake frowned and jumped up when someone cleared their throat behind him. Noah folded his arms and watched as Eva came in, her bloodied shirt replaced by a spare shirt they found in the trunk, and she seemed nervous.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that," Eva said softly. "I tend to forget most people aren't used to it."

Jake stammered, "N-no, I just…you were angry, and I haven't seen you angry before. I was- um, I just didn't know how to react."

Eva nodded and played with her fingers, ducking her head. "This will happen again, and I can't promise you won't see more sides of me that you might not be used to, but I will promise to always keep you safe the best that I can. I will never let harm come to you, purposely," she said.

Jake's eyes widened, and he stepped forward, hesitating. Noah knew what he wanted and nudged him forward with his boot. Jake stumbled and turned red before he wrapped his arms around Eva and hugged her. Noah had no idea what was said, but he knew that whatever it was, Eva appreciated it. She hugged Jake back and laughed, letting him go.

"Deal," she whispered.

Noah rolled his eyes and said, "Can we go make sure Santana hasn't killed the other guy yet?"

"Oh. About that," Eva began. "We don't have to worry about that."

Noah blinked. "You're joking, right?" asked.

Eva shook her head. "Nope," she said, popping the 'p.'

"You killed the guy who could help us take down Forbes?"

"Not quite. Akio killed himself. He had a, um, failsafe," Eva sighed. "One that we didn't see until it was too late."

"What failsafe?" Jake asked.

"Cyanide pill."

Noah ran a hand over his face. "They were prepared for us?" he asked.

"I don't think so. It seemed like Akio was expecting someone else," Eva said. "When we found him, he appeared to be relieved. And before he swallowed the pill, he muttered something in Japanese. Sounded a lot like, watashi wa mō kinpatsu oni ni tsukaenai."

"That's roughly translated to mean I serve the blonde demon no more," Noah sighed. "And before you ask, Sam and I were planning a trip to Japan, and we studied up on the language."

"When were you two supposed to be going there?"

"Eh, graduation."

"Oh."

"Regardless, how did Jacob Ben Israel end up with some Japanese weapons dealer in Dayton?"

Eva went to respond but paused when Santana came into the bathroom. It wasn't that big, and Noah wished they would move it out into the public space. Thankfully, and unfortunately, Santana gave them a reason to quickly get out of the building.

"I don't think Akio was our contact," Santana said hurriedly. "I think it was Jacob, and our resident pervert had a meeting with Forbes in an hour. We need to get out of here before Forbes or whoever else finds out we found this place."

"Did you get the weapons we ordered?" Eva asked, already walking towards the front.

"Yes, nothing more and nothing less," Santana answered.

Noah grabbed Jake by the arm and kept him close, making sure his brother had everything. Jake pointed to a separate room and said, "Cameras! They have cameras."

"Go and be quick about it," Eva instructed. "We've already been here for thirty minutes, and I don't want to risk being here any longer."

Jake nodded and ran off into the room. Noah hesitated, but Santana beat him to it.

"Go with Eva," she said. "I'll stay with Jake."

Noah gave a short jerk of his head and ran off to help Eva. He waited for orders, seeing her brain working, and when a look of indifference crossed her face, he had a cold shiver go down his spine.

"Grab whatever you want," she said. "And when you have it, we're gone, and we're not leaving this place standing."

"Wouldn't Forbes know we were here?" he questioned.

"He shouldn't. Akio and Jacob weren't one client guys. We just need to make it as ambiguous as possible."

"Done!" Jake shouted, waddling out with an armful of equipment. "Can I take this with us? I debugged them and restored their hard drives."

Eva's lips quirked at the mountain of screens in Jake's arms and saw Santana hiding her smile with her hand.

"You can keep it, Jake," Eva said. "But we need to go. Noah, I need a big one."

"Already ahead of you." Noah found what he was looking for and picked it up after he loaded it. The Stovepipe was heavier than he anticipated, but he made it work. "Alright, with the amount of stuff in here, once this place blows, it should give us a big enough boom. We just need to stick to the side roads, so we don't get caught," he said.

"Don't worry about that. I can cut the cameras as we drive."

"I knew there was a reason Dad kept you around," Noah quipped.

"Are you sure it wasn't because he failed with the first son?"

"Nice."

"Finish this in the cars, boys!" Eva shouted.

The four hurried out of the building, and Noah hopped on the trunk. Hoping Santana didn't take advantage and try and knock him off, Noah balanced the best he could and as they drove off, aimed the weapon at the building and fired, the blowback sending him hard into the back window.

"Ow, shit!" Noah exclaimed. He shielded his face from the explosion, the fire hot enough to singe the hairs on his arm, but even in pain, he whooped and fist-pumped.

"Holy fuck! That was awesome!"

Noah turned and saw Jake sitting on the edge of the door, leaning out the window, and he shouted at him to get back in and turn off the fucking cameras. Jake laughed and scurried back in, and Noah held on to absolutely nothing as Santana sped through the back roads. He held onto the Stovepipe as well, thinking it could come in handy later on, and also hoped that Santana would stop at some point to let him slide back inside. It was starting to get cold, and all it took was one turn to send him flying off the back and into the bushes.


	43. Chapter 43

**Hello all, I just returned from a trip to Denver, so thankfully none of my outlines got lost with the crappy Wi-Fi I had out there.**

 **Much love,**

 **D19**

* * *

Tina nursed a glass of whiskey as she sat in the kitchen. Upstairs, Quinn and Brittany were locked away in the bedroom, arguing as usual, and Tina refused to be anywhere near them. It was almost midnight. Eva and the others weren't back, but no one else seemed to be worried. Then again, the people who would care weren't even at the house. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off. Xavier, once gung-ho about spending time with Quinn, was rarely at home. Sue kept receiving strange, cryptic phone calls throughout the day, and neither one was within reach. With the dinner happening in less than forty-eight hours, Tina was convinced Eva's penchant for explosions went beyond the physical.

The house was a time-bomb tick ticking away.

"You seem lost in thought, Cohen-Chang."

Tina swallowed her drink and glanced over her shoulder, seeing the ever more elusive Taylor stepping out of the shadows.

"I thought you were dead," she mumbled.

"I am."

"No, seriously, I thought you were dead."

Taylor sat down in the chair in front of her and placed his palms flat on the table. "I wasn't joking. I no longer exist to the outside world. For all intents and purposes, I died in Russia."

"But- how did you-

"Dressed up like the pilot," Taylor said, shrugging. "No one pays attention to the pilot."

Tina grunted. "You've been here the entire time?" she asked.

"Mostly. I don't stay here. I stay with Xavier."

"I thought Xavier stayed here?"

Taylor let a smirk grace his face for merely a moment, but his lips thinned out as he said, "You are focusing on the wrong things, Cohen-Chang."

"Stop calling me that."

"What would you prefer for me to call you?"

"Tina."

"Very well, Tina. You are focusing on the right things. The answers are right in front of you."

"How do you know what I'm thinking about?" she grumbled.

"You glance to the ceiling every time their voices filter through the wood, and you get a frown on your face. Two plus two will always equal four."

Tina rolled her eyes and said, "I don't need any more cryptic answers. I've had enough in my lifetime."

"I am not cryptic," Taylor sighed. He stood up and walked around the counter, bending down to whisper in her ear, "Ask the right questions. Because you would benefit from the answers."

Tina shuddered at his proximity, but when she turned around to respond, he was gone. She groaned and slid off the stool, trudging over to the backdoor, but jumped back when Eva opened it and slipped inside with Santana, Noah, and Jake in tow. Tina stepped to the side to let them in, and afterward, she took her time in closing the door in hopes of spotting Taylor's silhouette.

"You won't find him," Eva said quietly, coming up to stand beside her. "He is literally trained in disappearing into thin air."

"But-

"Taylor has his own job to do, and I would like to keep it that way for the time being. Are we clear?"

"Yes, we're clear," Tina muttered.

"Good. Now, did you make any process with that other problem?"

"Not quite. Brittany kicked me out of the room shortly after you all left."

Eva lifted an eyebrow and said, "What was the last thing you heard or saw?"

"Just Quinn lying on the bed. Brittany's phone rang and Quinn complained about the ring tone before Brittany closed the door. I didn't hear who it was on the other end."

"Why didn't you stick around to find out?"

Tina was going to respond, but the slamming of a door followed by heavy footsteps put a pause on the conversation. The group remained in their spots around the island and Brittany stumbled to a stop when she saw that Eva and the others had returned.

"O-oh, you g-guys are back?" she stammered.

"Yes, why do you sound so surprised?" Eva asked.

"W-well, it was just so quiet down here."

"Surprised you could hear anything with all the yelling you two are doing," Tina muttered.

Brittany winced and glanced back at the stairs, forcing herself to laugh. "Oh, um, that. We're just having a minor disagreement on something, that's all," she said.

"What disagreement causes two people to argue non-stop?" Tina sighed. "I can't even sleep in the same room with you two."

"No one asked you to sleep in our room."

"Your room?" Eva repeated. "I thought Quinn was staying with Tina first and you moved in after the accident, which left Santana and me available to take the room you were staying in originally."

Brittany turned red and gestured aimlessly towards the stairs, "I mean, yes, but I wasn't sleeping in the room much. I was in the room with Quinn first," she said.

Tina frowned. "Yeah, but you said you didn't want to share a room with Quinn, so I switched with you."

"That's not what happened. You begged me to switch because you wanted to have some alone time with Quinn."

"What? No, I didn't!"

"Oh, come on, Tina. We all know about your unhealthy obsession with Quinn," Brittany snapped.

"Unhealthy? You're insane! I'm not obsessed with Quinn!"

"Then explain why you've practically designated yourself as her personal bodyguard, watching her while she showers and-

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back the fuck up. Don't make it sound like I'm perving on her! She's BLIND now, you dumb bitch! She can barely see two feet ahead of her, and while you're too busy running in and out of the house with no reason, Quinn is here stumbling around and falling down the stairs! But the only time you care about her is when she's not connected to your hip and being happy with someone else. If you want to talk about obsession, then look in the fucking mirror!"

Brittany took a threatening step forward, but Eva slid between the two of them and placed her hand on Tina's chest.

"You and Noah go walk around the perimeter, double check the locks," she ordered softly.

Tina clenched her jaw and nodded shortly, stepping back and following Noah out of the house into the backyard.

* * *

Eva waited until Tina and Noah were gone before she turned back to Brittany with narrowed eyes. "First of all, I don't know what's going on between you three, but it ends tonight. I am tired of all the arguing and the tension," she said.

"Nothing is going on between us," Brittany argued.

"Are you really going to stand there and lie to my face?" Eva hissed. "What do you call what just happened?"

"A disagreement," Brittany said dismissively. "You're overreacting."

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking too?"

"You."

"Have you lost your damn mind?"

"I'm not afraid of you, Eva," Brittany said, emphasizing her name. "You're still that same old Rachel Berry everyone used to make fun of in high school. A name change, some money, and an accent don't change the inside. What's going on between Quinn and me is not your business, nor is it Tina's."

"None of my business? How is it none of my business?"

"Because you're not involved. Simple. We'll be all lovey-dovey, happy family by the time of the dinner party, but you should be more concerned about your own bed before you comment on someone else's."

"Excuse me?"

"What was unclear about that? Need me to say it in Russian? You don't scare me, Eva. I know who you really are. You're the same scared little girl who used to hide in the bathrooms every afternoon because you couldn't handle getting another slushy. You liked to act all tough in front of everyone but who snuck you out of school and took you back home where you cried about no one loving you. Huh? Who listened to you babble on and on about how you missed your Papa and how you wish your Dad were home more? Me. I know the girl behind the mask, and she's nothing worth pissing over."

The kitchen grew cold, and it was only after Brittany's statement did Eva realize Tina and Noah were back. Eva fought with herself to not respond the way she wanted, but she gave in, and the smile she gave Brittany was positively lethal.

"You're right. You know the girl behind the mask. As do I," Eva said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you should try to avoid pissing off the person who literally kept your ass from being pregnant, in jail, and homeless, not necessarily in that order. Not only did you have sex with Warren Evans, but you also fucked around and got pregnant by him and begged me to take you to a clinic. You also got so high that you crashed into a minivan that killed a Mom, a toddler, and permanently injured the other occupant. I covered for you, pinned it on a local drunk, and made sure you didn't see one damn minute in a jail cell. And what about when you found out your parents abandoned you? Who took you in? Hmm? Who let you stay and pretend to be living the same happy little life you were used too?

"Most importantly, who has had your back more than anyone else? The way I see it, you OWE me more than I OWE you. So, when you say you are not scared of me, I can only wonder how far your delusion goes because you and I both know you are terrified of me, Pierce. And that's because you know damn well that if it came down to it, I'd put a bullet through your skull with no hesitation if it meant keeping myself or my future wife alive. And after all of this? I have no loyalty to you. You should find yourself lucky I don't kick you out on your ass like your father did and label you No Value. See how long you'll make it this time with the entire Collective baring down on that pretty little blonde head of yours."

Brittany jerked back, and a weird look crossed her face before it went neutral. She said, "No worries. I'll let myself out. You have no loyalty to me? Fine. Then don't expect me to have any loyalty to you."

"I'll make do with your absence," Eva deadpanned.

"You sure about that?" Brittany replied.

"I think you overestimate your importance."

"The same can be said about you. You're not as special and well-respected as you think, Eva. The only reason you are in the position you are in is that Leroy put it on a piece of paper. Beyond that, you have no true connection to the Collective. Just a wannabe standing in the way."

Eva chuckled. "You're right. I'm just a wannabe standing in the way, but until someone can knock me off my pedestal, I'll continue to run the Collective the way it is supposed to run. With that said, as of right now, you are no longer a member, but I will not ex-communicate you. Consider this my last favor for you."

Brittany sneered and said, "I would be careful with the bridges you burn, Eva. You never know when you'll be faced with a river wider and deeper than you can swim."

"When I find that river, I'll be sure to keep your warning in mind."

Brittany turned on her heel and left the kitchen, and Eva barely reacted to the front door slamming shut. She glanced to the side, already knowing Taylor had somehow snuck back into the house, and said quietly, "Follow her. I want to know why she was so quick to leave the only place in Lima that she should feel safe."

Taylor bowed and vanished out the back door, his body merging with the shadows as he disappeared into the night. Eva watched him go, and in the safety of the people around her, let her mask fall. She closed her eyes and for the second time in a few months, mourned the loss of one of her best friends.

* * *

The police precinct seemed as plain as the rest of the town to Taylor. He thought it looked like as mundane as the officers who worked there. Leaning against a wall, carefully sheathed in the shadow of the streetlamp, he watched Brittany pace the side of the building. She was freezing, that much he could see, and she had dried tears streaked on her cheeks. He folded his arms against his chest and waited. His patience paid off. The door to the precinct opened, and Detective Forbes came running out, his arms going around her quickly. Taylor squinted in the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of their lips, and put his rarely advertised skill of lip-reading to the test.

 _"She kicked me out."_ **Brittany**

 _"Did you get what I needed?"_ **Forbes**

 _"Yes, the information is on a flash drive, but I left it at the house."_ **Brittany**

 _"Why didn't you grab it on your way out?"_ **Forbes, angry.**

 _"Because I didn't have time!"_ **Brittany, annoyed.**

 _"Fine. I'll find a reason to come over tomorrow, and you sneak back in and get that flash drive. It's the only way we'll bring her down."_ **Forbes, resigned.**

 _"Where am I supposed to go for tonight?"_ **Brittany**

Taylor watched Forbes dig around in his pocket and throw a wad of cash at Brittany as he walked away. He couldn't see what was said, but it was enough for Brittany to look incensed. Taylor waited until Brittany stormed off, muttering about motels and dirty cops, and once she was gone, Taylor pinched the bridge of his nose and headed back to the house. He was really hoping that it was Quinn working with Forbes and not Brittany. Despite the act she put on, Eva would be devasted that Brittany betrayed her. Taylor sighed and stuck to the side streets as he took the long way back to the house. He pulled out his phone and typed out a quick message to Sue and pocketed his phone.

It was going to be a long night.


	44. Chapter 44

**Um, there are a lot of warnings for this chapter. I wish I could name them all but I can't. Just know there is a hint of something disgusting with one of the characters, and please be careful when you get to that section.**

 **Characters death(s), craziness, and quite possibly a shit storm. Uh. So, the usual?**

D19

* * *

The picture became clear after Taylor's message. Eva had all the pieces before her, and with ease, she arranged them in the image of her perceived downfall. In the corner, Santana stood in the shadows, eyes red and blazing for Eva's betrayal that led to the death of a loved one. At the bottom, Sam lay on burned soil with hollowed eyes that reflected blame and anger for allowing him to die. Eva studied the picture of her life, of her actions, and let the emotions to wash over her. Her fathers, her mother, Reagan, Glee, Xavier, Sue, Sam, Noah, Santana, Tina, Taylor, her father's soldiers, Warren, Quinn, and at the middle of it all, Brittany.

The enigma.

Why would Brittany feel the need to tear back the curtain and expose the man behind the mask?

Why would Brittany betray the only family she had left?

Why did Eva not see it coming?

Running her finger along the rim of her glass, Eva stared blankly at the blood-spattered wall. The shattered frames at her feet painted an image of a woman deranged, a woman without restraint, yet Eva was hurting. She picked up her scotch, drained it dry, and threw it against the wall and took great pleasure in the sound of its impact.

Why did she not kill Brittany the moment the doubt filtered into her mind?

Why did she not realize the coincidence of Russell's arrival and Quinn's attack?

Why did she not-

Growling, Eva stopped that train of thought and stood up from her chair. She walked barefoot over the broken glass, unaware of the pain, and left bloody footprints as she grabbed the bottle of scotch and forewent another glass. She drank from the bottle and spit a mouthful into the air, droplets streaked down her chin and neck into the valley of her breasts.

She had lost her mind.

Laughing, Eva twirled around and danced amongst the destruction at her feet. She sang and swayed to the rhythm only in her head. She giggled and hiccupped, she belched and snorted, and she screamed in sheer insanity at the ceiling.

"Are you not entertained?!" she shouted drunkenly, throwing the half-full bottle somewhere behind her. "ARE YOU NOT PLEASED WITH WHAT YOU SEE FATHER?! IS THIS NOT WHAT YOU EXPECTED FROM ME? A DOWNWARD SPIRAL INTO INSANITY?!"

Eva grabbed the table and flipped it on its side.

"DO YOU NOT SMILE DOWN AT ME FATHER?! ARE YOU NOT HAPPY FOR ME?!"

She yanked a blade from the wall and dragged it across the couch, ripping and shredding the fabric.

"HAVE I NOT DONE EVERYTHING YOU WANTED OF ME? AM I NOT OF YOUR BLOOD, YOUR SEED?"

Eva was about to toss the knife, but strong arms wrapped around her and dragged down. She fought and kicked and thrashed, but it was no use. She screamed against the hand cupped against her mouth, and her muffled sobs lasted well into the night.

* * *

Taylor looked around before he opened the door. He carried the water bottle, pills, and food to the nightstand. In the bed, Taylor sighed at the pale form of his boss and felt his heart twinge. Beside her, he was grateful for Noah and Santana, each on one side. Santana had her fingers running through brunette locks, Noah with his arms around them both, and Taylor merely inclined his head when they caught him staring.

"Is she okay?" he whispered.

"You can speak normally," Santana replied. "She is still unconscious."

Taylor winced. "I had hoped she would be awake by now," he said.

"She had a mental snap," Noah explained. "She literally fractured her psyche, and it will take time to recover from that."

"How do you know?"

Noah's eyes dropped, and he said, "My Dad had one after my Mom died. It took him a few days to recover, and he still has his moments where he relapses."

"Not to sound inconsiderate, but we don't have a few days. We already delayed the dinner-

"We know," Santana interrupted. "Which is why we are going to forgo the dinner completely."

Taylor frowned. "I thought the dinner was-

"It was supposed to be, but I do not want to watch my fiancée spiral into another one of these. So instead, we are going to finish this my way."

"And what, may I ask, is your way?"

The stairs creaked outside of the room. Taylor drew his weapon, moving in front of the trio on the bed. Removing the safety, he aimed and was prepared to fire when Jake obliviously came into the room with his head down. Taylor smoothly holstered his weapon and Jake was none the wiser when he looked up.

"Oh, s-sorry, I did- didn't mean to interrupt. I should h-have knocked," he stammered.

"Why are you in here?" Noah asked. "I thought you were staying out until she woke up."

"I was, but you guys need to see this. So…I didn't tell anyone this, but I have a device that allows me to pick up bugs and cameras and frequencies that shouldn't be active, right? Well, I was tinkering with it for fun, but some weird shit came up."

"Weird shit like what?"

"For one, there are like four different bugs in this room right now," Jake frowned. "And before cutting on this device ten minutes ago, they were all active and relaying information to a server off the premises."

"What?!" Santana exclaimed, jostling the prone form of Eva in her lap.

"Yeah, that's not all. There was a camera hidden in the bookcase in the kitchen. I downloaded the memory, and you need to hear and see what was recorded."

Santana held out her hand, and Jake quickly walked it over to her. He pressed a button and turned the screen so they all could see, Taylor included. The image fizzled for a bit with static but cleared, and Taylor's anger spiked at what they could see.

"Is that-

"Fucking Forbes in our kitchen, in our house?" Santana hissed. "Yes. That is."

"But that's not Brittany with him," Taylor pointed out.

"Just keep watching," Jake muttered. "It doesn't get any better."

 ** _"You sure they're not here?" Forbes whispered._**

 ** _"Yeah, I'm sure. They went shopping."_**

 ** _"Shopping? Guess they should enjoy whatever luxuries they can before they're six feet under."_**

 _ **"Wait, I thought you were going to put them in prison?"**_

 _ **"The others, but Eva is going underground where she will rot."**_

 _ **"But, the deal was-**_

 _ **"The deal was I keep your daughter alive if you help me. That was the deal."**_

 _ **"But-**_

 _ **"Eva is not your daughter. If you want to pick, pick the one that would live to see her next birthday."**_

 _ **"You and Russell-**_

 _ **"Do not blame me for that fool's temper," Forbes growled. "He should have waited, but his obsession and his sexual preference for young blondes got him killed."**_

 _ **"You k-killed Russell?"**_

 _ **"Of course, I did. That idiot screwed me over! I needed your daughter alive and healthy, not handicapped and depressed."**_

 _ **"When this is over, she and I can go, right? That stuff on my record will be cleared, and I can start a new life, right?"**_

 _ **(TW)**_

 _ **"I said yes, and I keep my word, even to low life scum like you who like to pretend to be one thing but is actually another. Tell me, does Eva know that her precious godfather likes taking pictures of her while she sleeps? Does she know about the cameras in the bathroom or the ones in her bedroom? Does she know why you and Hiram really stopped talking?"**_

 _ **(End TW)**_

 _ **"Enough!"**_

 _ **Forbes laughed. "Lighten up, Xavier. I will not tell her and I will keep your dirty little secret, and your daughter will live, but you must keep your end of the bargain. They will discover Brittany in no time, but you will be the one they don't see coming. Keep feeding me information, and all will go well for you in the future. Now, shut up and show me where Brittany's room is so I can get back to work. I need that drive."**_

* * *

The two of them walked out of frame, and the recording stopped. The four were too shocked to say anything. Noah slid out from behind Santana and paced the room, his fists clenching and unclenching. Santana hadn't moved from the bed, her eyes resting on the sleeping Eva, and Taylor was fighting the urge to find Xavier and rip his head from his neck.

"Jake, find every camera, every bug, every fucking recorder, and when you do, tell me where they are. We will leave them on for now," Santana said darkly.

"So, turn the ones I turned off back on?" he asked warily.

"Not the ones in here, no. Leave those off. They don't need to know about Eva, not yet at least."

"Okay."

"What are you planning, Santana?" Noah asked.

"When we leave Lima this time, we are burning this fucking town to the ground, and I don't care who gets burned."

"And the others? Tina, Quinn, Sue?" Taylor asked.

"I don't think we can trust any of them, but we should wait for them to get back before we make any decisions. Taylor, text Sue and have her meet us at the house. Is she still not answering the phone?"

"No, but she says she's not somewhere she can talk."

"And you had no idea about Xavier? Weren't you trailing him?"

Taylor shook his head. "I was, but Eva would call me to do other things, so I was not with him all the time. I told Tina I lived with him, which wasn't a complete lie, but there were times I was not with him," he said regretfully.

Santana frowned. "Fair enough. I'm still tripping over this Sue thing. She gets a strange phone call, leaves, and doesn't come back, but manages to respond to our texts but not our calls?"

"That doesn't sound suspicious at all," Noah muttered.

"Exactly. Still, have her meet us at the house. You, however, stay here."

"Yes, ma'am. What about Quinn and Tina?"

"Tina drove Quinn to the hospital for a check-up, and Tina called, saying she was going to go for a jog while Quinn was at her appointment. They should be back within a half-hour."

"So, we wait?"

"Yes, we wait."

* * *

"Hey, sweetheart, I saw your missed call. Everything okay?" Forbes said into the phone.

"I grow tired of the games. This dinner was supposed to be the end of it, but they have delayed it and I do not want to play with children."

"Uh, okay, so what exactly do you want to do then?"

His wife paused, but eventually, she said, "Kill the appetizers, leave the main course for me."

Forbes leaned back in his seat and sighed, "As you wish."

He hung up the phone and dialed another number. When the person answered, he said, "Now is your time. You have a window of twenty minutes, if you miss it, then the deal is off."

* * *

Tina was on her way back to the hospital. She was glad Quinn asked her to drive her to the hospital. She needed to get out of that house. Eva was still sleeping off whatever happened, Santana and Noah were barely talking, and Jake was acting weird. Taylor had all but vanished, Brittany was gone, and Xavier still hadn't returned anyone's calls. Sue was nowhere to be found, but at least they were getting text messages from her every hour or so.

Stopping to stretch, Tina had her back to the road. She was unaware of the car following her down the street. Her headphones, Three Days Grace blaring in her ears, blocked out the sound of the engine, and when she started to jog again, Tina had no clue about the vehicle picking up speed.

By the time she noticed the car, it was on her heels, and Tina's head cracked against the windshield after impact. Her body rolled off the hood, and the driver sped off, leaving her in the middle of the road.

* * *

Quinn waited. She waited. And waited. But Tina still hadn't arrived. Pulling out her phone, Quinn was about to call again when a car pulled up in front of her. The window rolled down, and a familiar voice filtered out.

"Get in."

Quinn frowned. "Where's Tina?" she asked.

"Get in, Quinn."

Huffing, she reached for the door and yanked it open, sliding into the passenger's seat. She put on her seatbelt and folded her arms, wishing she could glare out of the window.

"Why are you picking me up and not her? You haven't said one word to me the entire time we've been back. Not even after Russell fucking blinded me."

"Look, I'm sorry, but my lack of silence has nothing to do with you. There's just a lot going on, and I didn't want to be distracted."

"Distracted? So now I'm a distraction?"

"Quinn, that's not what I-

"Whatever. Just take me back to the house."

There was silence.

"We're not going back to the house."

"What do you mean we're not going back? Where the hell are we going?"

"Los Angeles."

"Los- WHAT THE HELL! No way! I'm not going to Los Angeles with you!"

Xavier sighed. "I was afraid you would say that," he whispered.

A bag went over Quinn's head from the backseat before she could ask what was going on, and she screamed and thrashed, but a strange smell drifted into her nose, and her movements slowed until the last thing she heard was Xavier apologizing, telling her that it would all be better soon.

* * *

Forbes whistled as he unlocked the door to the shed at the back of his house. He flipped on the light, closed the door behind him, and cracked his back. A noise caught his attention, and he grinned.

"Have a nice nap?"

The woman struggled against his bindings, but it was useless. He was a sailor, and he knew his knots. The spikey blonde hair was streaked with purple and red, and the face was practically unrecognizable, but he knew the formidable woman was still very much so capable of ending his life.

"Screw you," she grunted.

"Oh, don't be like that," he said.

"Let me go, and I'll make this fight fair," she threatened.

Forbes picked up the phone and shook his head. "Of that, I have no doubt. But has it not bothered you that no one even second-guessed your messages? I mean, come on, I took you hours ago, and not one person even realizes you're not the one responding. I will say though that I have loved responding to all these lovely updates about how I was evil, Brittany was a traitor, and oh, the most recent one, 'come back to the house.' Guess you won't be answering that text, huh?"

The woman growled, and Forbes chuckled.

"Ah, I captured the infamous Sue Sylvester," he said, "and not even her own family knows about it. Sad, really, but you should have stopped poking your nose into business that doesn't involve you."

She struggled harder against the ropes, but it was useless. They both knew it. Forbes pulled out his gun, attached the silencer, and rolled his neck around. He needed a massage after the day he had.

"Alright, no more chit chat. It was lovely to spend time with you, but my wife has accelerated the timeline. Which means for my lunch break today, I'll be putting a bullet in your brain. How lovely."

Sue straightened and glared at him the best she could. "I'll see you in Hell," she spat.

"Noted. Long as you save me a seat."

He pulled the trigger twice, and when her body slumped forward, he could've sworn he heard Cheerios around town silently breathe a sigh of relief at the death of their taskmaster former Coach. Forbes laughed and for extra measure, emptied the clip into the woman. He tossed the gun on the shelf before leaving the shed and headed back to work.


	45. Chapter 45

**I can practically see the finish line.**

 **D19**

* * *

Eva stood in the driveway with her head back and her hands outstretched. It rarely rained in Lima, and on the days that it did, she loved going outside, standing beneath the clouds with her arms wide and her eyes closed. She smiled genuinely at the sounds of the water pelting the roofs nearby, the wind that blew through the trees, and she enjoyed the chill that came with the impending storm. Another reason she liked the rain was that it masked her tears. Sure, the weather gave her a type of childhood comfort that can't be duplicated, but it also gave her the excuse she needed.

As soon as she'd opened her eyes earlier that day, she knew something was wrong. The bedroom was bare, sans the mattress. The house was quiet, sans the silent whispering between Noah and Santana. There was an energy in the air that made Eva pause as she gathered her bearings. There was something off about the entire atmosphere, and when Santana sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands grabbing Eva's, everything became clear.

Death came with the territory, but she had yet to accept Sam's death before Reagan was killed. She hadn't gotten over Reagan's untimely passing, yet there she was, compounded by the deaths of two people she thought would last longer than she.

Sue hit the hardest.

There were things she wanted to say about Sue, so many stories she wanted to retell, but all she could come up with was, "That woman raised me, and to be honest, she is the only mother that I have ever known." It hurt to know they found her lying on the side of the road, abandoned like a piece of furniture, but it hurt, even more, to hear that she suffered. She couldn't speak for the 'what ifs' about life. All she could speak on were the facts, and the truth of the matter was Sue died for Eva, and that would not go unrewarded.

Tina, on the other hand, was a shock. The girl was barely involved, more like a friend that tagged along because of their cool toys, but to Santana, Tina's death was a tough one to swallow. Whatever happened between them while Reagan and Eva were gone meant a lot to Santana, and she kept saying that she wanted to apologize. For what? Eva had no idea, and she didn't have the right to ask.

The group cried as one. They shed tears for relationships that ended too soon, friendships that had yet to fully develop, and loved ones that had so much more life to live.

Eva bowed her head and let the water wash over her. She lowered her arms and clenched her fists.

Then there was Xavier, her godfather, the man that was supposed to be her protector. To know that he spent most of her life lusting after her, having disgusting thoughts about her, made Eva want to puke and scream at the same time.

And Quinn, poor Quinn. She was probably safer with Russell. Eva made sure that Jake was keeping an eye out for anyone who resembled Quinn. She needed to find her fast. Not because of Xavier, but because Quinn deserved to be with people who loved and honored her, not coveted her.

It took a moment for Eva to realize the rain stopped. She glanced upward at the sky and took a deep breath. She held it in, channeling every ounce of her sadness and grief, and when she felt she had it all, she released it all with a scream.

When she was finished, Eva shook off the negativity and straightened her posture. Glancing over her shoulder at the house behind her, she saw the figures waiting on the porch. She had lost the others of her family, but she was damn sure going to make sure the ones still alive stayed that way.

* * *

Forbes laughed at the screen while he ate dinner. His wife was still in the kitchen, working on whatever she was planning for Eva when the doorbell rang. He assumed it was the takeout he ordered for his wife after she complained about having pizza for dinner again, so he hopped up and ran to the door, grabbing his wallet off the counter.

"Took you guys long enough," he said as he opened the door. "I've been waiting on this for close to an hour."

When he held out the money for the food, Forbes barely had time to breathe before he was down on the floor, twitching from the electricity coursing through his veins. Jake stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and he locked it quickly. Stepping over the unconscious detective, Jake made his way into the living room just as he heard bare feet padding in his direction. Jake slipped into the den, glad to see a free walk to the kitchen, and he hurriedly placed the small camera behind an old picture frame. He then ducked into the next room right as he heard footsteps again. Instead of hiding out, Jake kept moving. He moved through the halls to stay ahead, and when she double-backed into the kitchen, Jake opened a random door just enough for it to make a sound and sprinted down the hall as loud as he could. When he heard her running after him, Jake reached into this pocket and pressed a button on the remote he carried. He was halfway to the door when the sound of a gun cocking had him pause, and Jake immediately threw his hands into the air.

"Turn around," she said coldly. "So that I may look you in the eyes when I pull the trigger."

"Wait, please, I'm just-

"SHUT UP AND TURN AROUND!" she screeched.

Jake winced at the volume of the woman's voice and turned slowly, his head down.

"Lift your head," she ordered.

He did as he was told. When she saw him, her eyes screwed up, and she scoffed.

"You're just a kid," she said.

"It was a prank!" Jake exclaimed. "Someone paid me two hundred bucks to come here, use a taser on whoever answered the door and steal a flash drive or something. I didn't know anyone else was going to be home, I swear!"

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Who paid you? What did they look like?" she asked

Jake squirmed, glancing around to amp up his part, and said slowly, "Uh, she was kind of tall, blonde hair, blue eyes. She told me it was stolen. She said it had the last pictures of her family on it. She said her name was Briana or Brittany something."

"Did you say, Brittany?"

Jake's eyes widened, and he nodded quickly. "Yes! That was it! She cornered me while I was at work and told me if I did it, she'd pay me two hundred up front, and then another two hundred after I got the item. But she didn't tell me where it was. I didn't know anyone was home. I was supposed to be-

"ENOUGH!"

Jake flinched and held his hands in front of his face. He thought for sure he was going to die, but instead, the woman smacked his arms down.

"Listen to me, and listen to me carefully, boy. I will keep this a secret from my husband, but only if you do me one small favor," she said harshly.

Jake nodded so hard he was afraid that he'd knock something loose.

"Tell Brittany that if she wants the flash drive so bad, that she has to come and get it herself. Tell her that for me, yes? And you will live to see the morning."

"I c-can do that. Yup. M-message received."

The woman growled and jerked her head towards the door. "Leave, and if I ever see you around this house again, I will shoot you and bury you in my garden," she hissed.

Jake yelped and hightailed it out of the house, sprinting for good measure, and when he was out of sight, he slowed down and bent over to catch his breath. He took off the hat and jacket and jogged the rest of the way to where Santana and his brother parked. Puck jumped out as soon as he saw him and hugged him, giving him a once over before he grabbed the back of his neck and kissed his forehead.

"You are never allowed to do something as crazy as that again, you hear me? She could've killed you."

Jake grumbled and wiped the kiss from his face. "She doesn't know who I am, and Taylor probably would've killed her and burned the house down," he said.

"Which is what I suggested, but no, Eva wants to prolong this," Santana said from the passenger seat.

"We don't know what they have on us. Forbes could easily have a back up of whatever information Xavier gave him, and he could have a failsafe. Knowing what they know and how much they know will determine whether we end this within the next day or play it out until we have the upper hand," Noah said with a sigh.

Santana huffed and slid down in the seat. "Just get in the car, so we can see if the damn camera is working and get the hell out of this neighborhood."

* * *

Eva ran her index finger along her bottom lip as she watched the live recording of Forbes and Marisol in their kitchen. It was a fantastic angle, and Eva made a mental note to applaud Jake on his acting debut.

 _"I thought you said you took care of Brittany," Marisol hissed._

 _Forbes shivered and placed an ice pack on the back of his head. "I told her to get lost. How is it my fault she had a change of heart?" he said._

 _"I don't care what it was! She is considered a loose end and you need to TIE it before it unravels everything we have been building!"_

 _"I will! Can I recover from being tasered like a damn wild animal?"_

 _Marisol threw something in his general direction, but it missed. She leaned down on the counter with her palms flat and said, "What about the other thing?"_

 _"What thing?"_

 _"With Xavier and that girl of his. Are they out of the picture?"_

 _Forbes pulled out his phone. "Xavier texted me not too long ago and said they stopped in Illinois for gas and food. The girl is still unconscious. Every time she wakes up, she tries to jump out of the car, so he's kept her drugged up until they get to California."_

 _"Good. Now, how sure are you about this information?"_

 _Forbes groaned and stood up from the island. "How many times do we have to go through this, baby? Xavier pretty much recorded every conversation he was privy too. We have hours' worth of video and sound of Eva ordering hits, talking about drug deals, and everything that will bring her and the Collective down."_

 _"And where are the tapes? Has he given you the combination yet?"_

 _"Yes, he finally texted the box number that matches the key he gave me last week. I'm going to the bank tomorrow morning to grab them," he sighed._

 _Marisol nodded and rubbed her forehead. "Good. Good. Where is the key? Is it safe?"_

 _"It's in the glove compartment."_

 _"Why is it in the glove compartment?"_

 _"Who would hide an important key in their glove compartment?" he deadpanned._

 _Marisol inclined her head. "Fair. The moment you have the tapes, call me, and I'll take care of the rest."_

 _"Are you sure you just don't want to send Eva to prison? We can have her for hundred-plus years with this information."_

 _"No! She will DIE! She has to DIE! I cannot let her live, and my brothers are unable to do the same. An eye for an eye," she hissed. "Have you changed your mind about this?" she added._

 _Forbes held up his hand and said, "No, no, I'm only asking, sweetheart. I'm with you until the end on all of this."_

 _Marisol gave a short nod and turned her back on him. Forbes stared at her for a moment, his eyes lingering, but he eventually walked away. Maria was left alone in the kitchen, and Rachel saw her reach into a drawer. She pulled out a vial, something Eva couldn't see, and she poured it into an empty glass. Sighing, Maria opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. She poured two glasses, stirred the drink with the substance inside, and carried both out of the room, hitting the light as she passed._

With the room in darkness, Eva felt someone come up behind her and knew it to be Taylor.

"She's going to kill him."

Eva hummed.

"And she's going to get the tapes."

She hummed again.

"She has no intention of sending the rest of us to prison, does she?"

Eva shook her head and said, "No, I do not think she does."


	46. Chapter 46

**Before we get into things, I would like to thank a guest reviewer who sort of slapped me in the face and reminded me of why I write on this site. If you read the first version of this chapter, I apologize for short-changing you and being lazy about my work. I should have never posted it and should have never been so indifferent about the matter. I do not want to be known as a lazy writer, and I will do everything I can to prevent that from happening.**

 **Mistakes, both in the story and with the story, are mine.**

 **D19**

* * *

The bank manager was a little annoyed at the interruption of his daily routine. There had never been an instance in his entire career where he wished he didn't stick to such a strict schedule. The man and woman walking around the safety deposit boxes, talking in different languages, blackmailed him into opening the bank for them. If he weren't so concerned about his family discovering his obsession with pocketing more money than he put in the vault, he wouldn't have opened the door.

"E-excuse me, if you would so please get on with your business and be about your way. The bank opens officially in exactly one hour, and I have not done my daily routine," he said shakily.

The woman, a black-haired vixen with incredible green eyes, turned and said, "Don't worry, Eustace. We are almost done. Would you happen to have a key to box number forty-three?"

He blinked. "How did you know my name?"

"Did you really just ask that?"

He turned red and shook his head violently, and the woman repeated her first question, "Do you have a key for box forty-three?"

"N-no. We only made one key for that box. The owner explicitly asked for one key," he said.

The woman raised an eyebrow in indifference, and he forced himself to stammer out, "I'm s-sorry. Mr. Forbes is the only one with a key."

"There is no other way to open this box?" she asked.

"I m-mean, I have the master k-key for all-

"Wonderful," she cut in. The man with her pulled out a gun while simultaneously pulling him further into the vault. She smiled brightly and gestured to the box.

"Open it, please," she said sweetly.

"Ma'am, I c-can't just open-

The safety on the gun clicked, and Eustace quickly grabbed his keys off his belt. He trembled as he searched for the right one, but with the barrel pressed against his temple, he managed to find the right one and opened the safety deposit box. He stepped back and watched as the woman emptied the contents of the box and replaced them with a single letter. She then shut it and turned to face him directly.

"Thank you, Mr. Grant. You have been of perfect service to us," the woman said.

He relaxed, thinking it was over, but there was a sharp pain to the side of his head, and then his world went black.

* * *

"His mother must've hated him when he was born. What well-meaning mother purposely signs a document, inking into permanence the name Eustace for her son?" Santana said as they walked out the back of the bank.

"Is that really the only thing on your mind right now?" Taylor asked.

Santana waited until they were in the car parked by the alleyway before she pulled off the wig and began to remove the contacts. She sighed and said, "No, I'm worried this will go wrong the moment Marisol realizes we've taken the tapes. I haven't heard from Eva or Noah, and I know Jake is tucked away in some location while he waits."

"This is the plan Eva wanted."

"I still don't see why Eva wants to prolong this," Santana grumbled.

"Probably because Marisol was responsible for killing the only mother she ever knew and could possibly be the reason that Quinn gets killed. I also think she missed out on the opportunity to kill Warren for what he did to Sam and Reagan. This is personal. She's compounding everything into one massive kill, and Marisol is the unfortunate recipient of that anger Eva's been holding on too."

Santana frowned and stared at Taylor as he drove. She hadn't even thought of it like that.

"Wow," she whispered. "That was a very astute way of looking at things."

Taylor merely shrugged and turned down the road to the motel where Brittany was staying. "I pay attention more than I speak," he said.

"I see. Quick question though, why are we kidnapping Brittany and not killing her there?"

"Eva wants to look her in the eyes when she pulls the trigger. Something about splattering her brain across the fields where they used to play."

Santana made a face. "Why am I so afraid that she actually said something like that to you?" she asked.

"Because I can show you the text message where she says it exactly like that."

"Lovely."

* * *

Jake waited in the car as the police took the bank manager's statement. He saw Marisol pull up a half-hour ago, and she seemed anxious. She kept looking around and shuffling back and forth. When the police cleared the bank, Jake started to hum out a song he'd heard on the radio, being patient like Noah told him to be. So, he waited. And waited. When Marisol finally stormed from the bank, the letter tucked into her coat pocket, Jake moved into action and sent a text message to his brother.

 _ **Got letter. Pissed.**_

No response was expected. Jake had one job, and that was to watch and follow. Technically, he shouldn't be driving, but no one had to know that he had an illegal license. He turned on the engine and stayed three cars behind Marisol like Eva told him. When she merged onto the main street to head towards the land where Eva's first house used to be, he sighed in relief and turned down a dirt road, heading around to the back.

In an empty field, alone, and with no one around to hear the torture that awaited Marisol, Jake was convinced the next few hours would be some of the longest in his life.

* * *

Eva sat cross-legged in the grass, the faded yellow caution tape floating in the wind, and she tried to imagine where she might've been sitting if the house was still there. But even as she tried to meditate, her mind still wandered. She heard Sam's laughter echo around her with the passing breeze. She heard Sue yelling at them to get ready for school. She heard her Daddy, the rare days that he was there, whistling as he made breakfast. It overwhelmed and calmed her. When she heard a car engine pulling up behind her, Eva's eyes popped open, and she glanced to the tree where Santana waited. She trusted her fiancée to have a steady finger when it came down to it. She held up her hand and motioned for Taylor to bring out Brittany, the blonde looking worse for wear after hiding out in a motel for the last few days. She'd been living off noodles and liquor, and it showed.

A car door slammed behind her, but Eva still remained on the ground. She was unafraid of having her back facing the woman there to kill her, to ruin her Daddy's organization. There was a scream shortly after, and Eva turned to look over her shoulder. She found Marisol clutching her hand with the weapon at her feet and blood seeping through the woman's fingers.

"You should never shoot someone when there back is turned. That is a coward's move," she said loud enough for the woman to hear her.

Marisol muttered something under her breath before she ripped a piece of her shirt and wrapped it around her right hand. Eva got to her feet smoothly, uncaring about the dirt on her clothes, and took Brittany from Taylor once he got close enough.

"Go. You know where you need to be."

He bowed at the waist and jogged off towards where Santana was hiding. Eva pulled a gun from her waistband and held it loosely in her hands as she removed the tape Taylor put over Brittany's mouth. The blonde stretched her jaw, and Eva looked at the girl she once called a sister.

"You were supposed to be family," she said softly.

"I already have a family," Brittany hissed, her words slurred. "I was tired of playing house with you."

Eva should've felt guilty at that moment. She should've told Brittany that her family was dead a long time ago, but she didn't. Eva lifted the weapon and placed the barrel at the bottom of Brittany's chin. She made sure the girl was looking her in the eyes, the baby blues she thought held so many secrets were dulled from the alcohol.

"You are lucky. I am such a good person," Eva whispered.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Brittany gritted out.

"It means, that since you want to see your family so bad," Eva said coldly, "I will allow you to go join them in Hell."

With no silencer, the shot echoed through the field and sent the birds in the trees flying. In the corner of her eye, Eva saw Marisol falter momentarily. The woman genuinely seemed shocked that Eva would kill Brittany. Eva let Brittany fall to the soil, the top of her head blown clean off, and Eva used her shirt to wipe the blood from her face. Grass crunching behind her told her Marisol was closer than before, and she let out a small chuckle.

"You have to excuse me," she said, turning around. "I am normally not so sadistic."

Marisol stayed close enough to hear, but far enough out of reach. "I didn't come here to talk. I came for those tapes. You promised you would give them to me when I got here," she said sharply. "And I know you are a woman of your word, Miss Berry."

"Berry?" Eva repeated. She laughed and added, "You should be very careful what you call a person. Names are important, you know. Berry is not my name, Mrs. Forbes."

"Do not play games with me, child! You are the daughter of Leroy Berry, the Collector, leader of the Collective. I did my research," she snarled.

"I see. I take it Brittany neglected to tell you all of my dirty little secrets then. Pity, you could have saved yourself the trouble had she done so," Eva said coolly.

Marisol frowned. "What are you talking about? She told us everything she knew!" she exclaimed.

"Is that what she told you, or do you know that for a fact?"

Marisol paused, and Eva grinned lecherously.

"You see, I did not inherit the Collective through blood relation. My Dad purposely manipulated his own system so that he could leave it to me as an heir, rather than an inheritance," she said matter-of-factly. "The truth is," she paused and placed her hands behind her back, "I was blood ordained to inherit something else, something a lot different than the Collective, but I usually keep that business to myself. Not even my fiancée knows the moves I make within that circle."

Marisol took a small step back, and her eyes narrowed. "You are talking in riddles. I only want the tapes," she said.

"Not yet."

There was a brief moment of silence, only the wind in the background, and Marisol held out her hand. If it trembled, Eva pretended not to notice, and she sighed heavily.

"Surely you did not think I was going to give you the tapes that easily," Eva said.

"No, but if you don't…" Marisol trailed off as the sounds of engines roaring in the distance. Eva refrained from outwardly reacting, but inwardly, she was wondering just who would come to the rescue of this woman. In the time it took for the three trucks to screech to a stop, Eva had already grown bored with the interaction. Six men got out of each car, two from the cab and four from the back, and Eva did feel uncomfortable with the sheer amount of firepower they carried.

"Give me the tapes, and I won't tell my cousins to litter your pretty little frame with bullets."

Eva snorted at the threat. The woman was as terrifying as a rose petal in person, but as a shadow, Eva would be the first to admit she was deadly. Unfortunately, Eva had plans, and Marisol was the star of most of them. She reached up and ran a hand through her hair, showing four fingers to her fiancée in the distance. Like clockwork, Eva grinned as she heard the bullets whizz through the air, and four men dropped to the ground with small holes between their eyes. The other two spun around, searching for the sniper, and Eva was about to take advantage of their distraction, but her phone vibrated. She frowned and pulled it out of her pocket, confused as to who would be texting her private number.

 _ **If this reaches you in time, do not do anything. It's a trap! My computer went off as soon as I got close enough to the field. There's a recording device on her person. It's live, and someone else is watching….**_

There was another bubble, and Eva's heart grew cold at the next message.

 ** _It's going straight to the Cyber Division at LPD. The feed is already ten minutes long, which means it caught everything you did as soon as she arrived. You need to get out of there._**

Eva gripped her phone hard and spun on her heel, her jaw clenched. She looked in the general vicinity of where Santana was and made a fist. She then took great pleasure in hearing the other two hit the ground screaming in pain. The fist meant Eva wanted them to suffer, and she was glad that Santana obliged. If Jake was right, which she had no doubt that he was, then Marisol caught Eva killing Brittany. She even caught a glimpse of Taylor's face. Eva then had to wonder if those men were even family members, or if they were undercover cops.

Eva was screwed.

She signed to Santana that she needed to get out of there before Eva turned back around, finding Marisol closer than before. The woman had her hand out, and a cocky grin on her face.

"Tapes, if you please?" she asked.

"No," Eva deadpanned.

Marisol shrugged and said, "Fine. Have it your way."

Eva, her anger amplified by being played without even realizing, was suddenly glad Marisol had no idea who her father was. Or his last name. Eva felt red haze creep along the sides of her eyes, and she let it. She only saw Marisol standing in front of her. She didn't care about the camera, or Taylor sneaking up behind the woman.

"You should have never got involved with me," she hissed.

Marisol's smart remark died on her lips as Eva flipped her gun around and smashed the butt of the weapon against the side of her head. She stepped over the unconscious woman and whispered to Taylor about the camera, and he nodded in understanding.

He started to whisper, "Boss, you-

"I do not need anything else from you! Just get her in the car without your face being seen and get her ass out of this fucking town," she hissed at him.

Most people would've flinched or gotten scared, but Eva was glad to see that Taylor wasn't one of those people. He gripped her arm and bent down, his eyes blazing.

"I was only going to tell you that you have blood on your shirt, and before you go blazing into the police department, you should change. I know you're scared, but do not take it out on the people who are only trying to help you. You fucked up. Own it, and then fix it, so we can get the hell out of the Midwest," he said sharply, his voice no higher than a whisper.

Eva bared her teeth at him, but he didn't let go. She broke contact first, knowing he was right and took a deep breath. Taylor let her arm go, and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"Mhm. Go. I'll text you when I get somewhere safe."

Eva nodded and walked off towards the main road. She came around the corner and found Santana already in the driver's seat of their car, the passenger door wide open. Eva sighed and slipped inside, only to get a face full of cotton.

"Put it on and buckle up. Jake already texted me," she said, speeding down the street.

Eva said nothing, merely did as she was told. She hated when Taylor and Santana were on the same wavelength without even being near one another. It made her feel like a child, but then again, it made her feel like she never had to worry about them. They would keep her safe, even from herself.

* * *

Jake bounced his leg as he watched the live recording stop, the last image a close-up of grass.

"They have everything they need to arrest her," Noah said.

"Yep."

"She killed one person and could have possibly killed another."

"Yep."

"What are we going to do? Can't you erase the footage or something?"

Jake frowned. "I don't have that equipment, remember? We destroyed it in case someone came to the house. I would have to physically plug my phone in the computer, hack it, and erase it that way," he said.

"And that's impossible?"

"How do you expect me to get into the Cyber Division of the LPD?"

His brother tried to think of a solution, but after several failed ideas, had nothing.

"I swear, why can't you just turn on the fire alarm, sneak in while everyone is going out, do it, and then sneak back out," Noah grumbled. "That's what they did in that tv show the other night."

Jake looked at his brother, and a broad smile graced his features. "You're a fucking genius! But it won't be a fire. It will have to be a carbon monoxide alarm. Police officers are brave and stupid enough to go investigate where the fire is before they leave the building."

Noah made a face, and warily said, "Uh, isn't carbon monoxide poisonous?"

"Very, but it won't be my fault completely if they don't leave," Jake said distractedly.

"You've been hanging around Eva too much."

"Not as much as I've been hanging around Santana, but I get your point."

* * *

Santana stopped when she saw where Noah and Jake had parked and pulled up on the other side of the street. They were about a block away from the building, but they could still see it. Eva was about to get out of the car when Santana grabbed her arm and kept her from leaving.

"We don't need Eva Berry for this," she said.

"What?"

"Stop acting like your Daddy and think like your father. From what you've told me, he was smart, cunning, and ruthless. Not hot-headed, sadistic, and impulsive."

Eva flinched back and said, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry won't cut it when you're six feet under."

"I get it, San," Eva sighed.

"You better. Now, we're going to go over to the car with Noah and Jake, talk this out so we can get that footage and get out of this town. Clear?" Eva pouted a little but nodded, and Santana rolled her eyes as she added, "You're insufferable."

They were both getting out of the car, on their way to where Noah and Jake were when Eva caught a familiar face jogging into the precinct. She froze and it seemed Santana noticed the same thing as she.

"I thought he was dead," Santana hissed.

"We never saw what she put in the drink," Eva hissed back. "I assumed it was poison."

"Fuck, Eva, why didn't you make sure?!" Santana exclaimed.

"I was a bit busy!" Eva snapped.

Santana ran a hand through her hair and said, "Fuck, now we have to kill him and delete that footage on top of killing her. Fuck!"

Eva buried her face into the crook of her elbow and screamed in frustration. Santana was right. It was time to stop acting like her Daddy and start thinking like her Papa.


	47. Chapter 47

**Someone asked me am I the author of that story where Santana was the heir to the mafia in Colombia. Technically, there are a lot of stories like that. I wrote something similar to that, yes, but not that directly related. Anyway, here is the 'final' chapter to YR, but yes, there will be another one after this that will be more like the Epilogue. Thank you to everyone who stuck with this. The good, the bad, and the oftentimes ugly. I appreciate all the follows, favorites, reviews, and views to this story. It's not perfect, not even close, but it was a joyful pain to write.**

 **Much love**

 **D19**

* * *

"Detective Forbes, I thought you called in sick?"

"I have a charge to file."

"Oh? What charge? Who is it against?"

Detective Forbes ground his teeth and said, "My wife."

"Marisol? Why?!"

"She tried to kill me last night. Poisoned my wine," he growled.

The officer at the front desk obviously didn't believe him but wasn't in the position to do anything other than what Forbes asked of him. He pulled out the right paperwork, typing something into the computer, and Forbes chewed on his lip while he waited. He still felt the effects of the drink and was about to tell the man to forward everything to his computer when a finger tapped his shoulder. Forbes spun around and was shocked to see Ms. Berry standing behind him. Fearing the worst, he gripped her arm and dragged her away from the desk, and he whispered sharply, "What are you doing here?"

She merely sighed and said in a low voice, "We need to talk. If you're interested, come outside. If not, continue filing charges against your wife and hope your fellow boys in blue can do their job against someone who knows the ins and outs of the justice system."

Detective Forbes turned his head, looking over his shoulder, and saw his counterpart obviously more interested in the conversation than the papers he was supposed to be filing. He knew they weren't talking loud enough to be heard, but he didn't want to take any risks. He let go of her arm and jerked his head towards the front door.

"After you, then," he said.

She hummed and spun on her heel, leading him out of the station.

"Wait, Detective! What about these-

"Drop them," he ordered. "If she shows up here, tell her I wasn't here."

The officer at the front desk frowned, and the Detective knew it'd be around the station by lunchtime. He only hoped they weren't stupid enough to call his wife in and start asking questions.

* * *

Eva led Detective Forbes to the car she shared with Santana and got into the backseat. Forbes slid in after her, and he pulled his gun out, resting it on his lap.

"Talk," he demanded.

"Don't be so hasty, Detective."

"I am not interested in any type of deals you want to make, Berry. You and your counterparts are going to prison, and that is the end of it. I can move on with my life and get back to protecting the good people of this town without you hovering around."

Eva cocked an eyebrow and said, "Need I remind you that it was you and your wife that led me back here. I was content never coming back to Lima as long as I lived."

"You have to pay for your crimes," he hissed.

"I've been paying for my crimes since the moment I was born, Detective. I've lost countless family members and friends to this world, but I do not plan on losing any more. I brought you out here to talk about your wife and tell you that she had no intention of bringing you those tapes back. But you already know that, don't you?"

"Just tell me what you want," he growled, removing the safety from his weapon.

"Calm down. Your wife transmitted a video to your cyber division. She caught me doing something I don't regret, but I don't need the police putting a bolo out on me for righting a past wrong. Once I have that video, then I move on to greener pastures."

"You think we're just going to let you vanish back into the underground? No way. You and the entire Collective are not getting away that easily."

Eva hummed. "I'm sorry, but this is bothering me. How are you still alive?"

Detective Forbes jerked his head and frowned. "How- why are you asking that?" he questioned.

"Don't insult my intelligence. I know your wife put something in your wine last night."

There was a moment Eva believed he wouldn't say anything, but she could see it in his eyes. Behind the anger, he was hurt. He was betrayed by the woman he loved, and Eva could practically feel his pain. Lowering his weapon, Forbes pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"I drink the same kind of wine. I don't know why, but it's been there for me through a lot of things. I told my wife that I have a favorite, but I guess in her mind that didn't register the way I thought it would. I know what that wine taste like down to the molecular level. Every scent, every sip, and every swirl against the glass is engrained in my memory," he said. "So, last night, when she passed me the glass, I took one sip and knew something was wrong. I had to play along, or she would've killed me straight out. I drank enough to get sick, pretended to pass out, and this morning, I was physically too weak to do anything more than hold my breath and hope she thought I was dead. It obviously worked, or she was too distracted to realize I was faking. When she left, I crawled to the bathroom, forced myself to puke, and drank enough water to hopefully flush my system. Then I came straight here."

Eva shook her head. She couldn't understand why he was still following her manifesto. Then again, Eva would do the same if it was Santana. Guess love blinded people to their partner's faults…or their insanity. Eva hesitantly placed her hand on his arm, and said, "Look, did either one of you ever stop to think that my disappearance after the death of her brothers was not just because I was running? I wasn't in hiding to avoid a murder charge. I went into hiding to protect my family, to take on a hands-off role that would allow me to get married and start a family, but certain people won't let me do that."

"Certain people?" he asked.

"I had an enemy embedded so deep in my life that I allowed myself to get captured. I was on the verge of death, but I have a stubborn fiancée and equally stubborn friends who would not let that happen. I stayed out of the way because I was hurt, and the experience shined a light on something that I was not ready to admit. I used to think I was like my Daddy, capable of doing this for a long time, but I'm not. I'm nothing like him beyond our shared personalities, and I want to give the crown to someone who can keep going for a long time, but I can't do that when I have someone trying to kill me every other week."

"You want to retire from the Collective?" he asked, shocked.

"No, I want to be a silent partner and do my own thing," she corrected.

"That's the same thing."

"Semantics."

"But you can't possibly expect me to let you get away with what you've done," he exclaimed, almost whining. "You've murdered innocent-

"No, every person that I've personally had a hand in harming deserved it in one way or another," she interrupted.

"Your organization-

"Might be run by me, but it is led by individuals with their own agenda and their own purpose. I cannot monitor thousands of people every day. Some people slip up, and that's just the truth of the matter. I have not actively pulled the trigger."

"But you gave them the gun."

"What they do with that gun is up to them," she shrugged. "Just like you. You're a cop. You're given a gun, a taser, and a badge. You're sworn to protect and serve, but let's not sit here and pretend every cop in that building follows that oath down to the last letter. Humanity is flawed, Detective. You would think in your line of work you would understand that better than anybody, but I'll take it a little further just in case you're still not convinced. Your wife was out of the family business. She was going to law school and planning on becoming a lawyer, put a different spin on her family name, but the moment she discovered her brothers were dead, she changed. She became the woman that her parents always wanted her to be. Ruthless, cold-hearted, vindictive, and now you're standing here holding the loaded gun while she is off making a run for it. The woman you love and the woman you married are two very different people, Detective."

There was tense silence in the car after Eva's words. Even Santana held her breath. After a moment, Detective Forbes re-applied the safety to his weapon and holstered it, folding his arms as he sat back in the car. She could see he was still defensive, but she hoped he could see she wasn't interested in causing him any harm.

"What do you want?" he asked tiredly.

"I want you to go into that building and pretend like you never met me. I will gladly leave you and yours alone. My business is no longer your business. I will never come back to this town, never look your way, and never make your life harder than it needs to be. But if you so much as research my name, I will know about it and the deal is off. You will divorce Marisol, find a woman who is who she says she is, have a bunch of babies, and live a happy life until you retire. Have the life you deserve, Detective, because that's what I'm planning to do."

He stared at her for a long time, searching, and she held his eyes without a problem. She meant what she said. He was only following orders like the loving, doting, ignorant husband that he was, but she didn't have plans for him. Not anymore. Forbes rubbed his jaw and opened the car door.

"Give me ten minutes, and I'll be right back."

Eva frowned. "What?" she said, not expecting that response.

He got out of the car and jogged back to the station. Eva made eye contact with Santana in the rearview mirror, and they both shrugged. Eva crawled back into the passenger seat, barely managing not to kick Santana in the face, and she let out a shaky breath.

"Did you mean any of what you said to him?"

"Every word," Eva whispered. "Every single word."

Santana nodded and leaned over, kissing her cheek. "You're much more than either of your fathers, Eva. You are your own person, and that person is more beautiful than I ever imagined or anticipated. As dark and twisted as you are, the light inside of you shines brighter than any star."

Eva glanced at Santana and whispered, "You don't have to sweet-talk me, you know? I've already agreed to marry you."

Santana rolled her eyes and leaned back. "And this is exactly why we don't have sweet moments. You always ruin them," she sighed.

Eva snorted and crawled over the armrest, kissing Santana's neck. "I love you too," she murmured.

They shared a small smile, and for precisely ten minutes, Eva and Santana went back and forth on whether they should make a run for it, but Eva convinced Santana to have a little faith. Sure enough, Forbes came back, alone, and he leaned down against the passenger side window. He passed along a flash-drive to Eva and laughed a little.

"Consider this a sign of good faith. The Cyber division was all too happy to pass that along to a higher-up."

"How do I know this is the real video?" she asked.

"I would think you would recognize yourself murdering Brittany Pierce in a field," he said.

Eva grunted. "Fair."

"Now, get out of here. If I ever see you in Ohio again, I'm having you arrested and placed under the prison. Clear?"

"If I ever hear my name mentioned in Ohio, I'll have you spread across the four corners of the world and have what's left fed to the wildlife. Clear?"

"Crystal," he said. He stepped back, but then he bent back down and added, "Also, I'm pretty sure if I go to that field, I'm not going to find my wife, right?"

"You can always drive up there and find out."

Forbes snorted and stood up, placing his hands in his pocket and taking a step back. Eva took that as their sign to go, and she rolled up her window. Santana honked her horn twice, and they pulled off ahead of Noah and Jake, who were equally disappointed that their plan wouldn't work without actually having any carbon monoxide on hand. Eva knew they were trying to help, but Santana's plan worked better than she thought. Eva assumed she would have to ask him to get the video, but he seemed to pick up on her real reason for being there without her ever having to convince him of anything. Eva glanced out the side mirror, watching him still standing on the street, and she clicked her tongue against her teeth.

"He would've been a great ally to have in the force," she muttered.

"Before or after he had us arrested?"

"Preferably before."

Eva pulled out her phone and called Taylor. It took a few rings, but he eventually answered.

"Um, you okay?" she asked.

 **"It's hard to answer a phone when you're trying to tie up a live animal."**

"Oh, no."

 **"Oh, yes. Get your ass over here before I put a bullet in it."**

"Where?"

 **"Motel a few miles outside of town. You'll recognize it by the mold on the main sign."**

"Ew. Be there in fifteen."

Eva hung up and saw Santana side-eyeing her.

"What?" Eva asked.

"Did Forbes seem a little too happy that his wife was missing?"

"That's not his business anymore, and he agreed to stay out of my business."

"How is his wife, not his business?"

"She stopped being his wife the moment she poisoned his wine."

* * *

Taylor yanked open the door.

Eva held up a brown bag and said, "We stopped and got you a little something for your troubles."

"It better be the good shit."

"Always."

Taylor moved aside and let them in. Well, just Santana and Eva. Noah and Jake had no interest in watching and were going down to the diner across the street to chill out until everything was over.

"We won't be long," Eva assured them.

"Take your time. Long as it's good food, we'll be there for a while," Noah said, slapping Jake on the back.

The two Puckermans left, and Taylor closed the door. He locked it, shut the curtains, and perched on the edge of the nearby dresser while Eva walked over to where Marisol was tied to a chair by her own jacket. Eva bent over, applauding Taylor for using whatever he could find to gag her, and took great pleasure in removing the pillowcase from the woman's throat. Marisol then shot forward into Eva's face, her eyes blazing.

"You won't get away with this," she hissed, practically foaming at the mouth.

"If you're talking about the live video feed you had going while we were out in the field, the one going to the Cyber Division at the LPD, then I'm sorry to say that feed is no longer live."

Marisol's eyes widened, and she stammered, "How- what- you-

Eva stuffed the pillowcase back into the woman's mouth and sighed, "Enough. You sound like Porky the Pig. Yes, I know about the feed, yes, I've taken care of it, and yes, no one is coming to get you."

Marisol started rocking back and forth in the chair, slamming the legs on the carpet, and Eva stood up straight. She looked around the room, found a little figurine on the nightstand, and walked over to it. She grabbed it and made her way back to where Marisol continued to make unnecessary noise. Eva reared her arm and smashed the statue against the side of the woman's head until Marisol was still.

"Feel better?" Santana quipped.

"No. You see her stomach? It's still moving. I won't feel better until her intestines are on the floor."

"Gross."

Eva shrugged and turned slightly to Taylor. He dug around in his pockets and eventually handed her a pocket-knife.

"I'll still never know how you know what she's asking for without her saying anything," Santana muttered.

Taylor just made a face and took a sip from the bourbon Eva bought him. She placed the figurine on the bed and used her index finger to bend back Marisol's head. She smacked her a few times, bringing the woman back to consciousness, and when her eyes fluttered open, Eva smiled and placed the tip of the blade at the woman's throat.

"Now, you might not have actually killed anyone, but you had your ex-husband so wrapped around your finger that he did anything for you. Of course, now that he knows you tried to poison him, I don't think he'll be coming to your rescue."

Marisol's eyes widened, and Eva fake pouted.

"Aww, did you think he was dead? No, he's not dead. Just really, really upset."

Marisol started speaking through her gag, her words muffled, and Eva listened for almost five minutes before she grew tired of what she was sure was another rant. Digging the tip of the blade into her neck, Marisol's muffled words became muted screams, and Eva dragged the knife down the woman's skin, making sure to go deeper the lower she went.

Nothing mattered to her. Not the warm blood pouring onto her hand. Not the near-hysterical movements of Marisol as she tried to move away from the blade. Not the disgust of her actions. Nothing. The motor of the generator outside faded into the background as Sam's laughter floated into the air with Tina's sarcastic response, Sue's annoyed sigh, and Reagan's dark quip about something inappropriate. She imagined her Daddy hovering behind her, correcting her hand movements, or her Papa standing behind her Daddy, scolding him for not letting her do it on her own. She even thought of Brittany, remembering when the girl turned up on her doorstep during the dead of winter, crying because she'd been abandoned.

Eva got down into Marisol's stomach, the woman on the verge of unconsciousness, and she removed the blade. She then jabbed it into the woman's chest, twisting the blade sharply to the right. She yanked Marisol's head back, looking the woman in the eyes as she dug the knife in deeper. For a moment, Eva could see her reflection in Marisol's gaze. It fascinated her to watch herself watching herself as she watched the life leave Marisol's body. When the struggle ceased, Eva removed the blade and took a step back. Soft hands removed the knife from her grip and led her to the restroom. In the mirror, Eva was grateful to see Santana rinsing away the blood from her forearms and hands.

"Now, do you feel better?" Santana asked softly.

Eva let a smile ghost over her lips before she said, "A little."

"Why not a lot?"

"Quinn."

Santana momentarily paused, and she nodded sharply. "Yes, Quinn."

Eva rolled her neck around and pushed Lima out of her brain. She was physically and mentally done with the place. Now, however, she had one last chapter to close.

And one last family member to save.


	48. Chapter 48

**Like most of the chapters, this one gets a little dark.**

 **Mistakes are mine and definitely not intentional.**

 **D19**

* * *

Quinn scooted as far away as she could when she felt the bed dip. The smell of greasy, fast food filled her nose, and she scrunched her face. She was tired of burgers and fries. It seemed to be the only thing nearby, and if her nose was any indication, it was from the same place. Quinn had no idea where they were. Despite not being able to see, Quinn knew they'd been driving for a long time and had a feeling they were closer to California than she liked.

"I got your food. You should eat now. We'll be getting back on the road soon. Salt Lake City is about seven hours outside of Las Vegas, and I want to be settled before nightfall."

Ah, so they were in Utah. Way too close to California than she liked.

"Not hungry."

"Quinn, you need to eat. I don't know how far the next place to eat will be," he pleaded.

"I would rather starve than eat another burger, Xavier," she said tiredly.

"I'm back to Xavier now?"

If Quinn could glare, she would, but instead, she settled for a snort as she said, "You lost every right to call me a father when you kidnapped and drugged me."

"Would you have come with me otherwise?"

"Not a chance."

"I saved your life."

"No, you ruined it. I was perfectly fine in Lima with the others. I was happy there, even if I lost my sight, I was happy. You took that from me, and I will never forgive you."

There was a sigh. "One day, you will see that I made the best decision for us," he said softly.

Quinn frowned and said, "No, you made the best decision for you. A real father wouldn't have done this. I can't believe I let myself get happy with you. All the men in my life have been nothing but disappointments. At least with Russell, I knew what I was getting, and honestly, I would rather be with the father who abused me than the sperm donor pretending to love me."

She heard the intake of breath, the sharp exhale, and the bed moved shortly after. A hand landed on her cheek, and she flinched away, but chapped lips still brushed against her forehead. His cologne stayed even after he moved away, and she heard the bathroom door open and close. Quinn could still smell the burger, and she raised her shirt over her nose. She hadn't been able to bathe, to wash her hair, or to change clothes in what felt like three days, but apparently, no one batted an eye at the blind girl Xavier toted around like an accessory. Quinn grumbled to herself and stayed where she was. It wasn't like she could go anywhere without his help. The idiot accidentally threw her eye drops away when he dumped her purse with her phone and wallet, so now she had no medicine for her eyes, and her vision got worse instead of better. She saw nothing but colors. Scooting down against the headboard, Quinn closed her eyes and tried to relax the best she could considering, but naturally, she couldn't.

When the doorknob rattled momentarily, and she heard the tell-tale sign of someone opening the front door, Quinn had a moment of panic. If Xavier was right about kidnapping her to save her life, then maybe those same people caught up with them. Then again, Quinn imagined a near twenty-eight-hour drive was nothing for a desperate psychopath.

"Uh, Xavier?" Quinn called out nervously. "You should get out here."

There was shuffling, a curse, and she heard the bathroom door open just as the front door slammed against the wall. There was tense silence. Quinn was about to ask what was going on when a familiar voice filtered across the room.

"Hello, Xavier, Quinn. Miss me?"

Quinn, as happy as she was, felt ice slide down her spine. Guess a desperate psychopath wasn't too far off from the person who'd just broken into their motel room.

* * *

Eva watched Xavier's eyes dart to the gun on the nightstand, and she smiled, waving her finger as if she were talking to a child. "Now, now, Xavier. I'm only here to have a little chat, no need for violence," she cooed.

"H-how-" Xavier paused, and he swallowed roughly, "I thought you would be busy with Forbes and his wife. I was going to call you when we got settled so you can-

"Save it," she interrupted. "I already know you were planning on getting to LA and vanishing off the face of the Earth. Though I imagine you can't disappear too much considering Quinn is legally disabled. No offense."

"None taken," Quinn sighed.

"Come on, Eva. I would never just up and leave without telling you where I'm going," he said.

"You literally left Lima without saying anything. The only reason I knew you were gone was because I watched the hospital footage and we followed your car all the way out of town until you hopped on the highway."

Xavier winced and said, "I didn't want to distract you from Forbes. I figured you'd want to keep as many people off his radar as possible."

Eva lifted her left leg and wiggled it a bit. "Now try and pull the other one," she deadpanned.

"What?"

"Come on, Xavier. Drop the act. Stop trying to prove to me that you're the same guy that used to carry me around on his shoulders when I was younger. Stop trying to make it seem like you're still that crazy ass godfather who always gave me money and candy in exchange for keeping your pranks a secret. You ran because you were selfish. You were afraid Forbes wouldn't keep up his end of the deal, so you panicked. You kidnapped Quinn and tried to make a run for it, hoping that I would be so caught up with Marisol and Forbes that I wouldn't realize that you were gone. Well, guess what, I noticed!"

"Eva-

"No! You don't get to try and wiggle your way out of this. You don't get to talk your way into forgiveness this time because I am DONE with you. You are the worst type of person, and I am not surprised that Papa cut you out of our lives. Hell, had he not been murdered, I'm pretty sure he would've snapped your neck the moment he found out what you liked to do in your spare time!"

Quinn's head snapped up at that, and Eva clenched her jaw. She nudged Noah, who quickly walked across the carpet and bent down by Quinn. The girl jumped at first, but Noah told her it was him, and she relaxed. Noah took that as a sign to continue and picked Quinn off the bed.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Quinn asked.

"Trust me when I say that you'll be safer off in the car with Noah and Jake," Eva said quietly.

"Am I missing something?"

"Quinn, if you can't trust Eva, then trust me," Santana said. "Let Noah and Jake take you down to the car, and they'll explain everything."

Quinn made a face and reluctantly nodded. Noah carefully carried her out of the room, Jake right behind them, and Taylor closed the door after they'd gone. When it was just the four of them in the room, Xavier's entire mood changed.

"You're supposed to be dead."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"I already lost her once, I will not lose her again," he said darkly.

"It's too late for that. Right now, my friends are telling her exactly what kind of man you are with the proof to go along with it."

"And what kind of man is that?"

"The kind that'll make a deal with the Devil to save himself, not his daughter, and make sure his reputation stays intact as a good man who got dealt a bad hand."

Xavier folded his arms and said, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Eva stared hard at the man that she thought would be the man to step up and take the place of the two men she'd lost, but she was wrong. He was nothing to her. No matter how much it hurt to hear it, Eva was glad she saw that tape and glad she saw the real him before it got too late.

"I heard what you admitted to Forbes that day in the kitchen," she said softly.

Xavier's face hardened. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said.

Eva shrugged. "Whether you do or don't, I know what was said. Everything beyond that is ancient history."

"Ancient history?" he repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Doesn't matter," she said dismissively.

"So, what, you here to kill me or something?" he snorted.

Eva straightened at his tone and said, "No, I am not here to kill you. I came here for Quinn, and I wanted to see you face to face, so you will know that I know who you are. I will make peace with that my own way."

Xavier looked at her suspiciously. "So, you're only here for Quinn? That's it?" he asked.

Eva smiled and said, "Yes, I am only here for Quinn. She needs to be with people who love her and want the best for her." She turned and unlocked the door, opening it wide enough to slip out. She then looked over her shoulder and added, "However, I cannot say the same for my fiancée. I might not be here to kill you, but her reasons for coming might be a little different from mine."

Eva walked out of the motel room and made her way to the car, replacing her sunglasses as she skipped down the stairs.

* * *

Santana waited until the door closed before she walked over to the nightstand and picked up the gun that Xavier was itching to grab. She passed it to Taylor and told him to hold on to it, that it might come in handy later on down the line. Taylor smirked and let it hang loosely by his side, tapping it against his leg as Xavier watched the two of them warily. Santana faced the man standing on the far side of the room, his eyes darting across the room, looking for an exit, but they all knew the only way out was through the front door. She clasped her hands in front of her and waited for him to come to that realization.

"You won't kill me," he eventually said. "You're not the type."

"Oh? Mighty strong tune change from the one you had in Lima about me. I'm more like Eva than you want to admit. And yes, Xavier, I am going to kill you. I desire to prolong your pain, but I have a flight I cannot miss, and I will not waste time with the back and forth. So, if you don't mind, get on your knees."

"What are you going to do? Shoot me?"

"No."

Xavier frowned. "You're going to try and kill me with your bare hands?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Not even close."

"Then what-

Santana thrust out her arm, and a blade flew from inside of her sleeve. It lodged in his throat, and he dropped to his knees.

"Would've been a lot easier for us both if you had simply done that the first time," she muttered.

Xavier grasped at his neck, trying to remove the blade, but Santana clicked her tongue against her teeth.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. That blade is pretty much embedded in your artery. You take it out, you bleed to death," she said.

He made a gurgling sound, and Santana leisurely strolled across the room. She ripped open Xavier's shirt, pushing him on his back, and then shook out her other sleeve and let the other blade fall into her hand. Twirling the knife between her fingers, Santana then straddled the man's thighs, rising up so that she wasn't entirely on top of him, and bent down. Letter by letter, Santana took great pleasure in her work. She was reminded of her sister with each carving and kept her tears at bay. Reagan would've loved to get her hands on Xavier, but since she was no longer with him, Santana was all too happy to honor her sister the best way she could.

When she finished, Santana rose to her feet and stared at her work, tapping the hilt of the blade against her chin.

"Come here, please," she said to Taylor. "Is it missing something?"

Taylor crossed the room, and she heard his intake of breath.

"Holy shit. That's going to definitely get their attention."

"Focus. Anything missing?"

Taylor shrugged. "Eva would cut off his dick and put it in his mouth," he said.

"I'm not Eva, but the idea has merit. Do you want to-

"Yeah, no, I'm standing outside for that one."

Santana snickered and bent back down as Taylor left the room. The entire process was short, no pun intended, and Santana took no time being gentle about it. Xavier had passed out halfway through her carving on his chest. But he definitely woke up when that blade began its motions. Santana wiped her hands on her pants and removed the knife that was in Xavier's throat. Blood poured out of the wound, and the entire scene was surreal. She pulled out her phone, snapped a picture, and left the room. Taylor glanced at her with a greenish tint, and Santana laughed.

"You wanna see?" she teased.

"Hell no. Can we go now? That manager won't be out for long."

"Spoilsport," Santana pouted.

Taylor rolled his eyes and pointed to the car. "Move it, woman," he said.

Santana laughed and practically ran down the stairs with Taylor hot on her heels.

* * *

Eva crossed her legs and watched Santana help Quinn across the shore. Noah and Jake were already in the waves, tossing a football around, and Taylor was in the cabana grilling the fish they'd caught earlier that morning. She grinned when the sun caught light off her ring and had no problems remembering both her wedding and wedding night. They forewent the honeymoon, considering the one place they would visit was the place they called home, and they spent that time with their family. Noah had found himself a woman, Jake a man, and Taylor was content nurturing the small fire he'd started with Quinn. They were both damaged, broken, and trusted only a handful of people, but Eva had hope for them. She felt her phone ding and looked down, seeing a message from her favorite police officer. Over time, Forbes had come to view the world without his rose-colored glasses and had found a way to contact Eva through the Dark Web. She wasn't too connected on the site, but Jake made sure her name stayed out of constant chatter, so when she found it, Eva decided to bite the bullet and see what he wanted. After making sure he wasn't trying to set her up, they started a tentative business venture that left them both agreeing to a full-time partnership.

 **Cold Case officially closed. Police found no leads. Can't imagine who would do such a thing. Can you?**

Eva's laughter bubbled from her chest as she saw the article. One year and they still had no leads. How ironic, but Eva was positive the police weren't actively looking for the killer. After all, Santana's artwork told them all they needed to know. Eva typed back a message and sent a picture to Forbes's private phone.

 **Well, you do have a limited imagination. So, here's a little insight into your query, Lieutenant Forbes.**

 **Attached was an image of Xavier, shirt ripped open with the words: 'CHILD LOVER' carved into his chest with a not-so-small present protruding from his mouth and a gaping hole in his neck.**

Eva reclined back in her chair, took a sip of her drink, and chuckled to herself. Sure, she missed Sam and the others, more and more every day, but she knew they were looking down at her with the same exasperated smiles they wore when they were alive.

And that was enough for her.

For now, at least.


End file.
